


Out of Time

by Beshter



Series: Timeless [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Incredible Hulk (2008) - Freeform, Iron Man 2, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Thor - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 168,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beshter/pseuds/Beshter
Summary: Sequel to "Time and Again." Now in the 21st century, Peggy Carter is tasked with directing the Avengers Initiative - if she can manage to get it pulled together, that is. It is proving more difficult than it would seem, even for the woman who founded SHIELD, especially when dealing with a temperamental genius, a recalcitrant general, and an alien invasion in New Mexico...and then there is Tony Stark. Peggy finds herself running out of patience and time as she tries to keep the Avengers from failing before they can even start.
Relationships: Juan Machado/Julio Vargas (Original Characters), Peggy Carter & Angie Martinelli, Peggy Carter & Cassandra Kam (OC), Peggy Carter & Edwin Jarvis, Peggy Carter & Howard Stark, Peggy Carter & Phil Coulson, Peggy Carter & Sharon Carter, Peggy Carter & Tony Stark, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Timeless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710199
Comments: 471
Kudos: 335





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! To those of you just discovering his fic, this is the sequel to "Time and Again". When last we left our intrepid hero, she had just helped Tony Stark out of a jam, had a conversation with Fury about a super soldier experiment gone horribly wrong, and built a life for herself in the 21st century. What happens next?
> 
> If you have not read "Time and Again" and need a short summary to dig into this fic, the tl;dr version: Scott Lang takes Pym Particles and the time GPS, goes back to bring Peggy to the 21st century, goofs it up just a bit, and she's figured out a life for herself.
> 
> I would recommend highly reading the first story before continuing on this one as there are continuing relationships and plot threads, not to mention original characters, that we will revisit in this story. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first one and your support. It means a lot.
> 
> Jenn

_New York City, 1946_

As smooth as silk on the breeze, Edwin Jarvis pulled one of Howard Stark's many vehicles through the bustle of Manhattan traffic and up in front of the woman's hotel Peggy had scarcely lived in long enough to call home. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in and assist?”

Peggy watched Jack Thompson and Daniel Sousa as they got out of their agency car, both warily eyeing the Griffith Hotel as if it were a maximum security prison filled with dangerous murderers. “No, I believe that is quite all right, Mr. Jarvis, I think we will be able to handle it. Besides, no men are allowed above the first floor, so I’m afraid you wouldn’t be of much help in any case.”

Jarvis looked decidedly disgruntled at that. “I was thinking I could provide a smoothing of relations as it were. Knowing Agent Thompson’s public relations skills, I fear that he will make a muddle of it for you more than be of any real assistance.”

He wasn’t wrong, but at this point she was beyond caring what Miriam Fry thought of her. “I merely need Thompson to clear my name with my landlady so I can get my personal effects back, then I will meet you down here. I am sure it won’t take long.”

Poor Jarvis looked so guilty about all of this. “My afternoon is yours, Miss Carter. I’m afraid I am the one who got you into this mess, I feel I should be the one to get you out of it.”

“Nonsense! Howard was the one who got me into this with his inability to not swan off with everyone woman who crosses into his field of vision and his utter, raw hubris. If he hadn’t been seduced by Dottie Underwood and flattered into showing her his toys, none of this would have happened.”

He knew she was right, but if there was one thing Edwin Jarvis was, it was stubborn. “Still, had I been more upfront with you on many levels you could have planned this better and not have been left homeless in the process.”

“Well, you could have been more honest, I won’t deny that.” She shot him a cheeky grin, completely unperturbed by his efforts at self-flagellation. “I’m afraid none of us have been totally honest in any of this and we are all paying for it now.”

“You were more honest than most.”

“I don’t know about that,” Peggy murmured, watching Thompson and Sousa. “I lied to the SSR, to my colleagues, to Miriam Fry, and worst of all, to Angie.” And now she was going to have to clean up that mess as well.

“I think once you’ve explained the entire situation to Miss Martinelli, she will be most understanding. After all, she was willing to cover for you with the SSR in the first place. I can’t imagine she isn’t unaware of the complexities of the entire thing.”

“No, but it is one thing to stand by a friend who you think is in trouble. It is another thing to know that friend lied to you for months, which is why your place of employment had federal agents breaking into it and then they broke into your home to search through your personal items.”

“As someone who has had to face far worse from Mr. Stark, I can assure you, you do get over it. Well...mostly, I suppose.” A small muscle ticked in the corner of his mouth, the only indication of his long-suffering, if well accepted, frustration with the vagaries of serving in the employ of Howard.

“Thank you for the encouragement.” She reached for the handle of the door. “I suppose I should go out there before the pair of them bolt out of fear a pretty girl might wander past them.”

“They do look hopelessly lost in all of this, don’t they?” Jarvis looked particularly smug, perhaps feeling better fortified by the many dalliances of Howard’s over the years. “I’ll keep the car down here, then, and will be ready to assist when you have packed your things.”

“Of course,” she replied, stepping out to meet the other two. Thompson looked utterly annoyed that she had made him wait more than a minute outside of a woman’s hotel, while Sousa looked as if he was still half-convinced that a man-eating tiger might walk out of the front door. Peggy marched up to them both, utterly unbothered. “Shall we?”

“Took your own sweet time, Carter,” Thompson grumbled, following her up the front walk.

“I was confirming my situation with Mr. Jarvis. Howard has arranged for temporary lodgings for me after this fiasco, so I won’t be sleeping underneath my desk in the office.”

“I hear Stark is good at that sort of thing,” Thompson retorted, more to egg her, likely, than out of any real belief, though she she knew that after her secret efforts over the last few months to help him many in the office believed she and Stark had been secret lovers this whole time.

“What, jealous he knows how to treat a lady, Jack?” It was a low blow and Peggy wasn’t sorry for it as he knew exactly what she was up to. Thompson flushed, knowing he had it coming. “I’d no sooner take up with Howard Stark than I would a snake, and frankly I might prefer the snake. And if you are so concerned for my virtue you’ll fix this mess with Miss Fry so I won’t have this be on any record when I do find a new place of my own.”

Reasonably chastised, Thompson held up his hands in surrender. “Truce, okay? We all know I owe you...several. Besides, I’m sure once she hears of your valor and bravery in investigating a known spy, all will be forgiven and forgotten.”

Not even Sousa looked as if he believed that one.

“What,” Thompson glared at him, clearly feeling betrayed in Sousa’s lack of confidence.

“I’ve seen your tactics, Jack, and I don’t think you’ll win this one over with a carrot or a stick.”

“Or even a bottle of whiskey,” Peggy pipped up, happily joining the Sousa bandwagon.

“I have my charm,” he defended himself, looking decidedly nettled. “And I’ll have you both know, Howard Stark isn’t the only one who can be smooth with the ladies.”

Peggy didn’t dare look at Sousa for fear one or the both of them would dissolve into fits of giggles before they even entered the door.

As it turned out, if Jack Thompson thought he had any charm with the ladies, he had never had to face the wrath of Miriam Fry. She eyed him up and down in his gray suit, before turning her cold gaze to Sousa. Poor Daniel flinched, hunching over his crutch as if he was suddenly fascinated with how it managed to hold him upright, anything to not look Miss Fry in the eye. Peggy would have laughed outright at their pain if Miss Fry hadn’t turned her penetrating glare on her. Peggy had faced worse One didn’t grow up the daughter of proper, upper middle class English parents without running into more than a few Miriam Fry’s in your lifetime, but even still, she decided the wiser course of action would be to keep her mouth shut and allow Thompson to take the brunt of Miss Fry’s wrath.

Let me get this straight, Agent Thompson,” she snapped, politely but decisively. “Miss Carter is an agent for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, a division of the Army, is this correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Thompson replied, hat in hand, without even a hint of a smirk or grin. “Agent Carter has been with the SSR for five years.”

Someone had finally bothered to look at her personnel file, Peggy privately snorted, wondering if Sousa had been the one to tell him. She didn’t get to ruminate on that further before Miss Fry’s sharp eyes cut to Peggy standing, looking as contrite as she could manage, knowing that the woman was currently upset with all of them.

“Your application with us, Miss...Agent Carter, stated that you were only twenty-five years old. Is that true or is this another one of your...creative covers?”

Peggy knew the woman wanted to say the word “lies,” but felt she couldn’t given the two agents standing beside her. “That's accurate, my personal history, references, all those were absolutely honest.”

“But you never worked for the telephone company, as you stated in your initial paperwork?”

“No,” Peggy admitted, feeling somewhat guilty over that white lie. “I am sure you can understand why it is I had to say that. I had to be discreet about what I did, and that is the proscribed cover given to me by the SSR.”

“National security and all,” Thompson followed up, nodding meaningfully at Peggy. “Agent Carter here was on a case to infiltrate and follow a potential Soviet operative who we suspected would be sent here as her to live and use as a place of operations.”

“Dottie Underwood,” Peggy added, seeing the line that Thompson was trying to to play with Miss Fry. “I was tasked with following and watching her movements. I set up here in order to fit in naturally with the other ladies so she wouldn’t suspect.”

“Really?” Miss Fry arched an unconvinced eyebrow over her thick glasses, mouthed pursed in disapproval. “Strange as that room next to you wasn’t made available until Molly Bowden was asked to leave after her unfortunate incident with the young man she let into her room.”

Peggy could feel Thompson and Sousa’s eyes turn on her in mild panic, but she managed a cool shrug and knowing half smile. “Who do you think allowed her boyfriend to climb up to her room so he could get caught?”

It wasn’t the truth, but it was enough to shock the older woman, who looked aghast that Peggy would do such a scandalous thing. “Miss Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” Peggy corrected. If she was going to be dressed down, she was going to remind this woman what her title was.

Miss Fry was not amused. “Does being an agent with a federal agency preclude you from any sense of decency? You allowed a vulnerable young woman to be compromised all for the sake of your own personal manipulation!”

“No offense, Miss Fry,” Thompson dared to step in, placatingly. “Agent Carter was following orders. It was a matter of national security and I’m afraid that takes precedence over...the honor of I’m sure a lovely young woman.”

“Easy for you to say, Agent Thompson, but you are not the one tasked with the responsibility of their care! Had your so-called agency put a higher premium on their collateral damage and less on their agenda, Molly Bowden might not have been forced out of her safe and secure home to life in God knows where, doing God knows what!”

“I don’t know, she might have thanked us for it,” Sousa muttered softly behind Peggy. She resisted the urge to snort and prayed to God Miss Fry didn’t hear that. Unfortunately, God wasn’t on her side on this one. Miss Fry turned on poor Sousa so fast he teetered on his crutch.

“Perhaps this is all fun and games to you, Agent, but while you all were off carousing in a war I was on the home front watching over your sisters and sweethearts as they toiled and worked to keep this country moving, filling in for jobs men should do. I ensured each girl was safe while their brothers and beaus were too far away to protect them. I take my duty as seriously as you do and I will not be mocked for it.”

Sousa looked as if he wanted to hide under the office desk. Thompson looked as if he’d been hit by a bus, too stunned for words. Peggy at least collected herself enough to try and smooth out what was already a disaster of a situation. “As I was saying, Miss Fry, I was here on federal business. I am sorry we had to stage my arrest in front of all the ladies here, it pains me it came to that, but as the Russian operative had made me...that is, she had figured out something was afoot, we had to act drastically. My arrest was cover to make her believe I was a fugitive willing to turn on the SSR and work with her. It had the affect we wanted, but I’m afraid it came at the expense of the reputation of the Griffith Hotel. We have come to see what we can do to make amends.”

That seemed to mollify the old bat. She eyed Thompson shrewdly over her glasses. “Well, I won’t deny it did embarrass me greatly that this establishment was so tarnished. There was a promising young tenant who decided not to stay after the incident.”

“I am sorry for that and would like to help,” Thompson asked, pulling some sort of charm out of some dusty corner of his weasley soul. “And of course, the SSR would be more than happy to help compensate for any distress or loss of income the Griffith might have experienced in the wake of our actions.”

Whatever her sense of moral outrage was, Miriam Fry knew how to talk money. A small smile curved her pert lips. “I am happy to discuss the particulars on that score. Perhaps I can also inform the ladies of the actions of the brave agents of the SSR, especially Agent Carter of course, to assure them that they were never in any real danger?”

“Of course,” Thompson simpered, gritting his teeth as he did. Peggy decided now at least would be a good time to ask about her personal effects.

“Miss Fry,” she cut in, all politeness and apology. “I’m sorry, but would I be able to go and gather my personal things from my room?”

The other woman just did manage not to roll her eyes at Peggy’s reasonable request. “I suppose you may. I assume this means that you will not be choosing to stay at the Griffith in the future?”

By the sound of her question, she hoped Peggy would say she wasn’t. Peggy decided to take the high road on this...somewhat. “I believe perhaps it would be best if I didn’t. After all, I lead a very dangerous life, Miss Fry, and I wouldn’t want to subject the other ladies to any further threat in the course of protecting this nation’s security.”

That seemed to scare the knickers off the woman as it hit her what Peggy’s actual work was. “Errr, uh...no, of course not. I suppose it will be for the best all around, then, as you say.”

Peggy looked to the other two. “I’ll let you finish up here with Miss Fry. I will go upstairs and pack up.”

Neither Thompson nor Daniel looked as if they thanked her much for it, so she easily slipped out of the door of the office. In truth, she was glad they were preoccupied with the fussy Miriam Fry. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the loss of the Griffith pained her more than expected. She had come to appreciate the tidy little hotel and the women there. It was rather like her boarding school as a girl, only far more private and grown up. She enjoyed having girls who seemed to be nice and get along with her, for all that she let any of them get to know her. More than anything, she would miss Angie...sweet, caring, considerate Angie who only wanted to be her friend, to help out, to…

...to apparently wait around the corner for Peggy just on the other side of Miriam’s office, anger and disappointment clear in her expression. Peggy stopped, sighing at the look on Angie's face as she waited, arms crossed, mutinously glaring at her. Peggy knew she had this one coming, and she fully deserved all of it. She folded her hands carefully in front of her, glancing around the lobby and the scant girls there. They were all reading letters, the newspaper, lounging and chatting, casually trying to look as if they weren’t paying attention even though Peggy was certain they were.

“Hello, Angie,” she sighed, folding her hands in front of her.

Angie glared at her, stonily, clearly having listened in on every word on the other side of the glass. “Is it true?”

Peggy wasn’t going to insult Angie’s intelligence or blatant tendency to be a busybody. “Most of it.”

“But not all of it?”

“Angie…”

“I just want to know what parts of it were the lies to me and what parts of it were me just being a total idiot, because I thought we were friends, but clearly I was wrong about that, too.”

That was unexpected. Her accusation hit Peggy square in the chest, guilt exploding like a shrapnel shell. She supposed she deserved that. She hadn’t been honest with her friend. “Could we...maybe not have this conversation out in the open with everyone listening?”

“Why, because of national security,” she mocked, cruelly.

“Yes,” Peggy replied simply, glancing at the known gossips in the room. There were quite a few newspapers rustled and books shoved back up in front of faces. Angie seemed to notice as well, releasing a small, exasperated sigh.

“Fine, let’s go up to your room to have a proper argument. I can help you pack. I deal with my frustration by cleaning.”

“All right,” Peggy chuckled, finding a small bit of accord there. She led the way to the stairs, Angie silent behind her, as she pulled out her room key. They met no one else as they climbed to her room, the white doors all locked and quiet, unnerving in their sameness.

“They turned over the place pretty good,” Angie said, apologetically, as Peggy unlocked the door. “I tried to tidy it up, but they said it was ‘evidence’.”

“It was, sadly,” Peggy replied, pushing open the door and flipping on the lights to the expected disaster in her room. Her clothes were spilled all over the place, her bed turned upside down, papers scattered across the floor. Over the bed, the painting that had protected the niche she’d made in her wall was gone, exposing the hole in the brick. Little good any of that did now.

“Well, I suppose I should clean up,” Peggy sighed, unsure where to begin. She wandered to the pile of clothes and tumbled books, trying to sort out which to do first.

“You got a suitcase? Boxes?” Angie spun around to eye the mess, looking as overwhelmed as Peggy felt. Peggy gestured towards the closet, where Angie marched, stepping delicately around her lovely dresses and pulling out her suitcases and several other boxes she had packed things in when moving in here weeks ago and had not chanced to get rid of yet. “All right, I’ll handle the clothes. You start in on the books.

Peggy did as she was ordered, taking one of the boxes and wandering over to one fallen stack, beginning to gather and stack inside the crate as Angie pulled the mattress onto the bed and pulled a pile of clothes on top of it. Each of them began to silently work, quietly going about their business for several moments, until Angie finally spoke, digging into the subject Peggy knew she wanted to speak about.

“So, you never actually worked for the telephone company, right?”

Peggy didn’t look up from her work as she answered. “No, not exactly. I mean, the SSR uses a telephone company as a front for their offices, but I wasn’t with the other girls routing calls, I was an actual agent.”

“An agent? What does that mean?”

“Some days I even have to wonder,” Peggy quipped, glancing up at Angie’s solemn face. “I am afraid I’ve not been honest with you on everything about my past.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” She rolled her eyes as she folded up a blouse, tucking it inside Peggy’s suitcase. “I suppose you are English since you’ve not lost the accent.”

“Yes,” she murmured, softly chuckling. “That part is true. Born and raised in Hempstead, just outside of London proper.”

“And your folks, are they some sort of posh lord and lady?”

“No,” she laughed outright then. “What would give you that impression?”

“The way you drink tea. It’s always so prim and proper and neat. You don’t even stick your pinky out, though I don’t know if that’s right or not.”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Peggy replied, easily, hopeful that one of Angie’s many rabbit trails meant she was over the worst of her pique. “And no, my father is a judge in His Majesty’s courts. My mother of course keeps up the appearances with everyone in my father’s social circle, so she tried, and failed, to make a proper lady out of me. I think she had hoped I would land a minor lord or at least a knight, but I’m afraid my taste ran a little too...American.”

That earned a snort of laughter at least. “And is that why you came here, then? Because you fell in love?”

“No,” Peggy replied a little too quickly, Angie unknowingly hitting on perhaps the most tender and aching of spots she had. “No, I came here on an exchange. I had joined the SOE. It was a British spy agency during the war. My first assignment was to come to American on a sort of intellectual exchange, to come work with the SSR.”

Angie stopped in the middle of neatly folding a dress to stare at Peggy. “You were...are...a spy?”

Peggy paused in her packing to nervously look at her friend. “I am...sometimes, and investigator sometimes, too.”

“For real? Like a real, honest to goodness spy?” Angie stared at her as if she had said she had walked on the moon.

“I’m afraid so.”

“That’s so...glamorous.”

“Hardly,” Peggy countered, returning to filling the box. “In actuality for every field job I had, I had just as much time working in an office or lab. This lot think I’m their personal secretary more often than not. Never mind the real work I did in the war, the people I fought alongside with, the field experience I had.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but she couldn’t help herself. Angie seemed to understand though, having more than a few experiences herself in that corner pursuing her Broadway career. “You saw real action in the war?”

“Got the bullet scars to prove it.” She tapped her right shoulder cheerfully, even as Angie’s eyes went impossibly wide, the color draining right out of her face.

“You got shot!”

“Well...yes.” Peggy grew alarmed at Angie’s wan color. “I’m fine, obviously. Are you all right?”

“I am, just that...you got shot and you are sitting here packing boxes as if that happens everyday.”

“It was a war, Angie, of course it happened.” She tried to gentle the blow somewhat, at least. “There were many good men and women who got far worse than me.”

“Oh, I know.” Her own eldest brother had taken a bullet that had thankfully not killed him, but it had cracked ribs and collapsed a lung. “It’s just...I guess i didn’t realize that about you. I mean, I knew you didn’t work at the telephone company, but you are like a real life hero over here.”

“Hardly one of those, no more than anyone else.”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t over there being a spy and waving a gun.”

“Well, you were also still in school for much of it.”

“Gotta hit me where it hurts, eh, English?” The teasing sparkle as she said it hinted that Angie had probably forgiven her for the most part.

“Yes, well I’m still not that much older than you.”

“But you are a super spy and tracking down Russian assassins. Was Dottie really a spy this whole time?”

“I’m afraid so.” Peggy knew that Angie in particular had tried to make the awkward Dottie feel at home on their floor. “She was part of a Soviet program that took young girls and trained them to be spies and assassins.”

“They do that sort of thing? That’s horrible!”

“Lots of people do lots of horrible things in the name of national security.” Peggy put the last of her books in the box before sitting back on the floor to gaze up at Angie frankly. “And that leads me to my apology, Angie. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.”

Angie shrugged, the diffident way she had when she was hurt but didn’t want to show it. “Hey, I got to be part of a sting to catch a Russian spy. It will perhaps be the most exciting thing ever in my life.”

Not precisely true, but close enough Angie could brag about it. “Certainly was your best performance.”

“I know, it was, wasn’t it?” She grinned cheekily. “That Thompson down there ate it up. Men, so typical, women get weepy and they don’t know what to do.”

“I’ve employed that tactic more than once.” As Angie had said, Peggy too was an actress in her own way. “Still, I wouldn’t have gotten you in trouble if I could have helped it.”

Angie’s nod was measured as she tucked a jumper into Peggy’s suitcase. “And is it true that you manipulated all of this just to get at Dottie? Did you use me to get into this place, too?”

“No,” Peggy practically shouted, jumping up to take her friend’s hand. “No, you were my honest and real friend, one of the first I had here in America! You wanted to be my friend just because! Do you know how precious that is to me?”

Angie glumly shrugged, still not quite believing it. “You said you manipulated the situation with Molly.”

“I didn’t, that was me covering for Thompson. He basically if feeding Miriam Fry a line. The truth is I was working behind the scenes trying to clear Howard Stark's name. The SSR thought I was a traitor. It's all be cleared up, now, but Thompson is telling Miriam that I was here running an operation to catch Dottie. I didn't know she was even a Russian operative until it was almost too late.” 

Peggy sighed, flopping down on the bed by the pile of clothes, realizing she’d gotten herself in a pickle with her lies. “Molly’s boyfriend tried climbing in my window because he got lost. I met him at the sill with a loaded pistol in his face and told him to move along.”

“Peggy,” Angie shrieked, horrified and amused all at once, glancing to the window in question. “A real gun? You pointed a real gun at him?”

“I thought he was a burglar or a spy sent to kill me. How was I supposed to know?”

“Oh, gees, my best friend carries a gun.” Angie threw up her hands, moving to the drawers of Peggy’s vanity to pull out more clothes and other random items to pack. “So you didn’t make it so Molly would get caught?”

“No more than Molly herself did. She was rather obvious about it.”

“She kind of was, wasn’t she? I can’t believe she got away with it as long as she did, either.”

“How Miriam figured out still beats me. I think the SSR should hire her.”

“Seriously, she would make a good spy. Except, she didn’t know about Dottie...or you, really. So I guess that defeats that argument.”

“I suppose it does.” Peggy smiled, feeling the tension ease with her friend. “Honestly, Angie, I never wanted to deceive you, but so much of my work was classified. And even if I could have told you, what would I say?”

“I don’t know, you could have told me what you told me just now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Peggy had to admit, Angie was right. “I should have trusted you more with it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, though.” Angie neatly brought the corners of a scarf together. “I mean, I’m nosey enough as it is, the last thing I need to stick my nose in is spy stuff. And I’d get worried and then I turn into my mother, and that’s not something I ever want to become.”

“She’s a lovely woman,” Peggy chided, defending someone she only knew from the occasional phone calls Angie made home.

“She’s a worry wart convinced I am going to die penniless and on the bottle if I don’t find a husband soon.” Angie tossed the scarf into the bag, reaching for another. “And my father is so mad I decided not to take the secretarial school courses he’s pretty much cut me off. Since the diner is closed thanks to your buddies downstairs, I only have enough money to stay here till the end of the month. I either have to hope I find a role on Broadway soon or, you know, end up living on the streets like my mother worries about.”

The unexpected consequences of Peggy reckless actions. “I should have never met with Mr. Jarvis there. If I hadn’t…”

“It’s okay, Peg. I mean you were just doing your job.”

It hadn't quite been part of her job, but Peggy got Angie's point. If it hadn’t been for Howard and his thoughtless, casual treatment of women and getting entangled with Dottie in the first place, none of this would have happened…

Peggy paused, a brilliant idea occurring to her.

“I think I have an answer for your problem, actually.”

“Really, because if it involves being a spy, I just don’t think I could handle that kind of pressure.”

“No, not at all. It involves Howard Stark.”

That brought Angie up short. "What about him?”

“Well, he owes me a rather large favor and he may be loaning one of his many penthouses to me as a thank you for having cleared his name of treason in regards to his recent legal issues surrounding the disappearance of some of his weapons. I was thinking if you needed a place to stay, you could come and be my roommate.”

Angie paused in the middle of folding up a slip. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I was asking if you wanted to share a palatial flat with me.”

“No, I meant the part where Howard Stark, the richest man in the world, owes you a favor.”

“I don’t know if he’s the richest, and he owes me several favors at this point, but I will start with a place to live.”

“How do you know Howard Stark? Is this a spy thing? Please let it be a spy thing and not a seduction thing, because he’s always got a new woman on his arm and I’d like to think you have more self respect than that.”

“Far more self respect,” Peggy assured her, dryly. “I’ve known Howard for years now, since the early years of the war. He’s been a good friend...mostly. Also, he’s been impossible, a nightmare, and a headache, but still one of my dear friends when I admit it. And Howard is many things, but he is also loyal and good to those he cares for, so I don’t feel sorry taking a small bit of advantage of him on your behalf.”

Angie didn’t look as sure about the idea. “I don’t know, Peggy, I mean, that’s a big ask.”

“I saved him from treason charges and then saved his life, and that was just in the last two days, so I think he won’t mind letting you stay.”

Her friend beamed with relief and excitement. “I mean, if your serious, Peggy, that would be such a life saver! I would thank you forever!”

“It’s the least I could do for you after everything I cost you.”

“Are you kidding? Now I can really work the Broadway angle. Just you wait, soon you will see Angie Martinelli’s name up on a marquee.” She already had stars in her eyes at the thought. “But, you know, till then I’ll take a posh, Upper East Side penthouse if I can get it.”

“Then it is yours. Mr. Jarvis can meet us here to pick up our things and take us over there straight away.”

“Oh my God, a real penthouse,” she thrilled. “You’ll have to tell Howard Stark he is a gem for this, a real good, good man!”

Peggy could only shake her head, pulling herself up to help finish folding the rest of her clothing. “Wait till you get to know him, you’ll get over that sentiment quick enough.”

“I wouldn’t care if he kicked puppies at this moment, I’ve got a place to stay, I don’t have to worry about rent, and I still got my best friend...and she’s not going to federal prison for treason.”

Peggy could only smile, nudging Angie with her shoulder. “Something tells me, Miss Martinelli, you’ll always have me as a friend.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy makes a deal with Thaddeus Ross.

_Washington DC, April, 2011_

It was moments like this that Peggy found she missed Mr. Jarvis' level head and Angie's empathetic heart. She wished she could speak to both of them, because she had a feeling that after this day she would need someone with sense to vent to.  
She had been forced to deal with many a bone headed, small minded, idiotic general in her relatively young lifetime, but of all of the men Peggy had dealt with in this role, truly none were as spectacularly idiotic, in her opinion, as Thaddeus Ross. 

She would have indeed told him so if he wasn’t busy screaming into a telephone so loudly she could hear it from outside of his office. She simply waited, eyeing the door as several colorful expletives rang through the glass. His assistant flinched as he tried to look very busy with his computer, every so often shooting furtive, apologetic looks Peggy’s way, offering repeatedly to fetch her something to drink.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, managing a polite smile, thinking that it must be hell to work for a general like Ross. She had worked for Chester Phillips, who had never risen higher than a colonel, but might as well have been ranked higher for the rough shod he rode over his unit. Still, she had rather loved the gruff old man with his weathered, hang dog expression that could burn holes into the hide of a young private who had crossed him. Phillips could tear down everyone from an enlisted man to a senator with a single cutting remark, and was the only man she knew who could consistently keep Howard Stark in check. Surely, he would have handled this conversation with far more grace than Thaddeus Ross was managing, especially considering the fact he was having it about none other than Howard’s son, Tony.

“I’m sure he’ll only be another minute,” the young man assured her, glancing at the clock on the wall. She had arrived to their 1 PM meeting early. It was now after 2 PM. She been sitting there, flipping through other notes, listening as Ross went from reasonable tones, to cajoling, to now frustration, most of that focused on one person or the other for some incident in the Congo and a conversation in Cairo. Whatever it was, there were many unhappy people, least of all Ross. There was a slam of finality as a receiver met the plastic of the phone base, followed by a loud exclamation of “son-of-a-bitch.” Whatever had occurred on the other end of the phone line, it wasn’t what Ross had wanted. His aide perked up, cautiously rose to tap on the door, and opened it at the snapped command from the other side.

“Your one o’clock is here waiting for you, sir.”

There was a long pause as she heard a drawn out sigh. “Yeah, send her in. Might as well have someone else piss on my parade today.”

“Yes, sir,” the aide replied, looking to Peggy, who had already gathered her briefcase. She shot a brief, compassionate look of gratitude at the man, before entering the lion’s den, confidently meeting the disgruntled ire of Thaddeus Ross.

“General,” she greeted, politely taking the hand he offered despite the clearly dour mood he was in. “I’d ask you how your afternoon has been going, but I have the distinct impression it hasn’t been going well.”

“Don’t need to be a spy to figure that out,” he shot back, directing her to the seat in front of his desk. “Come to break my balls some more, Director Carter?”

“Only if that’s what you really want,” she retorted, lightly, unphased either by his vulgarity or the unspoken sexism in the comment. For all that the 21st century was leagues better than the mid-20th century, and for all the advances women had made in the world, she found that sexism - especially among old school, military types like Ross - hadn’t exactly disappeared into a cloud of golden enlightenment. Ross had it baked in his bones, just like the generals she had dealt with in World War II.

“At this age, I will take what I can get,” he muttered, chuckling at his own joke, unbothered that Peggy was less than amused. “Let me guess, you are still harping about the super soldier serum?”

“The files you turned over to SHIELD were incomplete,” Peggy responded coolly.

“I told you a lot of the data was lost when Banner tore the hell out of that lab.”

“You honestly expect me to believe you haven’t been working on it once in the last five years?”

Ross’s glower was mutinous from across his desk. “That is US Army research, the hell I’m just turning it over to SHIELD.”

“Research that is based off of work done from Project: Rebirth, a proprietary Strategic Scientific Reserve project."

"From when the SSR was still the US Army," he countered, shortly.

Peggy easily reposted that. "When the SHIELD charter was created, all Army funding of SSR research ceased and all research materials, data, and outcomes were formally taken over by SHIELD according to the UN charter dated June of 1948.”

“You would have that memorized, wouldn’t you,” he sneered, scowling as he reached for a pen to twiddle in irritation.

“I am rather intimately familiar with the particulars of the formation of SHIELD, general, and I know where our legal standing is. The US Army has been playing around with a project that was shut down decades ago for a reason. I think your own Congress had a similar opinion once word of your division’s experiments got out, didn’t it?”

“Like SHIELD is clean on that score,” Ross sneered, a familiar argument he had used already in their ongoing feud over the super soldier research. “You know before you had a Steve Rogers, you had a Johann Schmidt. Don’t forget, Erskine was the one who created the HYDRA that you spent so much time and effort killing.”

His words cut, just as they were meant to. Peggy knew that there was a kernel of truth in the statement, but she refused to rise to the bait. “Be that as it may, the formula was developed under the SSR and is still part of SHIELD’s auspices. That means every aspect of the program belongs to us - the research, any new formulas, any and all samples, including test subjects.”

She could hear Ross’ teeth practically cracking under the strain of his jaw clenching, furiously. “Don’t give me this bullshit, Carter, just lay it on the table. Fury wants Banner, that’s what this is about. He’s wanted that mindless creature because Fury wants to have all the weapons and he thinks he can control it. Fat lot of good that one-eyed, son-of-a-bitch did fir me when this first happened, and now I know why. Well, you can tell him that I don’t know where Banner is, and even if I did, I’d not tell him. Both of you can kiss my ass.”

Peggy suppressed a long sigh and thought fondly of Jack Thompson. At least he could be civil once in a while. “We know you have put out open inquiries regarding Banner.”

He couldn’t deny it, and blessedly, he didn’t try. He merely leaned back in his chair, looking like the cat that got the cream. “So I did. I guess you all are really trying to grab him. What would SHIELD do with him? They think they can cure him, keep him from turning into a monster? You don’t know what he is like. I do. You’ll never hope to contain him if you get him. He’s a mindless animal, he’ll destroy anything and everything in his path, no matter who it is. Could be his mother, his best friend, the love of his life…”

He trailed off, regret flickering briefly, before he shrugged, holding up his hands. “You all can try, but I’m telling you now it’s not worth your time.”

Peggy was well aware of the particulars, but wasn’t about to tell him that. “Even so, I doubt the Senate Armed Services Committee will be quite as understanding of Army resources being used to contain a mistake they were told was handled.”

Ross hardly looked bothered by that. “Clearly, you don’t know the Senate Armed Services Committee, Carter. They are far more concerned with your boy, Tony Stark, and that Iron Man suit of his.”

Peggy knew of it but didn’t dignify Ross with a snappish response. “I heard that the Army has been trying to employ him on some of their missions...trying being the operative word.”

She could tell from the color rising in Ross’ face that she’d hit a nerve. “You all were the ones who let him keep his damned suit. You knew how dangerous it was and you let him walk out the door with it.”

“Last I knew, General Ross, Tony Stark was still a United States citizen who has certain rights under your laws. SHIELD is an international agency under the UN charter, not a branch of the federal government. You are the ones hell bent on trying to take his own property away from him, property I might add that is completely proprietary according to patent law and was not funded or commissioned by the US military at all.”

“Must be nice to hide behind technicalities when it suits you,” he drawled, lazily.

“Well, at least I know the technicalities, General Ross, as I’m not the one currently beating my head against the wall trying to do something he isn’t going to do.”

Ross snorted, chewing his mustache briefly in frustration, eyeing Peggy as if she were one of his underlings, some stuttering lieutenant who didn’t know what to do with himself. “You think you could handle him any better, Carter?”

She saw a mile away what Ross was getting at. It was a tactic used many times over with her, no less by Thompson, who loved to throw an intractable situation at her to see if she would sink or swim. Either way, Thompson would win in the end, and she nearly always did it, if nothing else to prove she could. It was a dance she had done many times over, and she shouldn’t do it now, but she knew what Ross didn’t, that she wanted Tony Stark on the Avengers. 

Stark had said no to Fury and Peggy had let the matter lie for the last five months while Stark went on his self-proclaimed “world peace tour”, running errands for the Army when he felt like it, doing his own thing if he didn’t. Much like his impromptu announcement, his activity since had set off a firestorm of debate regarding Stark, his mental health after his captivity, his suit and the danger it posed, and the moral and ethical quandary of having essentially an independent vigilante running around the world with no government or agency oversight, blithely handling delicate, international situations on his own personal whim. The United States government was less than thrilled about it, the international peacekeeping community was outraged, and public sentiment seemed to be torn between those who feared what a genius billionaire would do with an item as dangerous as the Iron Man suit, as it was dubbed, and those who felt it was refreshing to see someone actually take a stand and fight back and not be held back by the red tape of oversight and policy. Peggy personally knew where she stood on the matter. She knew she was being played by Ross, and yet, it was an opportunity she needed to take.

“You want me to handle Stark?” She took the bait with a knowing smile, much to Ross’ delight.

“Someone is going to have to. Those higher up the political food chain want him leashed. There are members of the Joint Chiefs and the NSC who are screaming for someone to go in there and take the damn thing, Constitution be damned. Only reason they haven’t is because Stark is a campaign donor to the President and because his candy-ass best friend, James Rhodes, swears he has the situation under control.”

“Colonel Rhodes has been his friend since childhood, practically, if there is anyone that Stark will listen to, it’s him.”

“Then he will listen to no one, because Rhodes lets him get away with murder all the time. We can’t rely on college best buddies to keep a spoiled, privileged, mad genius on the straight and narrow. He needs to be put into check, and there are powerful people both in the Pentagon and on the Hill who are all too happy to do it. If SHIELD steps in and puts a leash on him, holds him accountable, and can assure all of those people he’s not a loose cannon ready to pop, well...it would relieve a lot of anxiety and put a lot of people in SHIELD’s debt.”

“As if you weren’t already in our debt after the Stane fiasco?” Peggy couldn’t help but dig in a spur on that one. She was going to say yes, but she wasn’t going to make it easy. “First SHIELD is the ones finding Stark after the military dropped the ball on him, then we cleaned up your Stane mess when it came out he was using you all to do backroom deals with enemies of the United States. Now you want us to handle Tony Stark, too?”

Ross shrugged, acknowledging her point. “All right, yes, we owe you a lot. I’m sure there is a way we can come to an agreement over this.”

“There is,” she replied, as her slow, careful strategy moved Ross in position right where she wanted him to be. “I want Bruce Banner.”

She had expected him to go ballistic. When it hit him what she had done, his blue eyes widened as anger and surprise burned there, before it clicked with him just what she had done. Then, to her surprise, he laughed, a small snort at first, shaking his mustache as his mouth twitched, before he shook his head, great guffaws of laughter ringing out of him. Tears formed as he giggled and snorted, unable to look at Peggy without breaking into further giggles that had him nearly doubled over. Peggy didn’t think it was all that amusing, but given the day Ross had been having thus far, she allowed him a few moments to clutch himself in laughter as he composed himself, wiping his eyes with one gnarled knuckle, titters slowing as he finally pulled himself back together.

“Carter,” he gasped, breathless around another snort. “I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch, I won’t ever play chess against you.”

“Probably best if you didn’t. I learned from my father who was a barrister before he became a judge.”

“Well, if he was half as good at the law as you were in playing me just now, he must be a very good judge.”

“He was,” she smiled, softly, ignoring the pang that the memory of her father brought up. “So, I’m guessing from that display that you agree to my terms.”

Ross snickered, again, briefly. “Jesus Christ, yeah, sure. I’m telling you, I don’t know where he is at the moment.”

Peggy wasn’t sure she could believe that, but she didn’t think he was completely lying either. “You are looking, though, correct?”

Ross finally sobered, somewhat, bobbing his head noncommittally. “We’ve had intel. I don’t know how good it is, but if it pans out, then by all means, you can have Banner.”

Peggy was no Natasha Romanoff, who had a preternatural ability to read another human being, but she was fairly good at reading people’s tells. Everyone had them. Howard always became deadly serious when he lied, everything was some sort of end-of-the-world scenario. Jarvis tugged his ear nervously, a tick he’d probably had since childhood. Angie would always roll her eyes heavenward, as if trying to look innocent, while Michael had a tendency to slip his hands behind his back to hold them tight and keep them from fidgeting. Even Coulson had a tell when you looked, a slight twitch under the stoic armor of his expression. Thaddeus Ross’ tell was in his avoidance. A true military man, he had learned the value of what to share, when to share it, and to who. The less you say, the less you had to explain. Peggy had a feeling that was the game he was playing now, which was foolish in the grand scheme of things. She was a spy who worked with spies, they would find out in the end, whether he liked it or not. Still, she had gotten what she wanted. She let him think he had the upper hand as she nodded, sitting forward to hold out her hand.

“I think we have a deal, then, General. I will work on Tony Stark and see what I can do to bring him under control. You will get me Bruce Banner.”

Ross’ mustache twitched. “We have a deal.” He took her hand in his larger one, a firm shake.

“I’m glad we could finally come to an agreement, then.” Peggy smiled, removing her hand and standing, grabbing her things.

“Does this mean I’ll be denied your joyful presence?”

His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. “We’ve got time, General. I’m sure you and I will find many other things to buck heads over in the years to come.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he shot back, only half jokingly. She had just slipped the strap of her case of her shoulder when he spoke up again, a curious, studying expression on his face. “You know, I know of another Carter who was once with SHIELD.”

Peggy paused, regarding him as evenly as she could manage. It was by far not the first time someone from within the US military establishment had heard the name of Margaret Carter for someone from SHIELD and began to put two and two together. Out of habit, she shrugged, brushing it off. “You must be thinking of Sharon Carter. She works here in Washington on the United States security desk. We are distant relations through our fathers.”

He shook his head, apparently not knowing who Sharon was. “No, not her, a different Margaret Carter. She once worked with the SSR, was one of the key people on Project: Rebirth. Fought alongside Captain America, from what I understand. Was one of the founders of SHIELD.”

Ross wasn’t as stupid as she thought he was. “I’ve heard of her, yes. She was a formidable woman, clearly.”

“That she was,” Ross agreed, still studying her expectantly. “I just bring it up because you have the same name and you remind me of her, especially the part about wanting to control all the aspects of the super soldier program. I don’t know, from what I understand, she had wanted to put an end to it too. Said that we couldn’t go about trying to catch lightning in a bottle again and again, it would only end in disaster.”

Peggy temporized, trying to look thoughtful and considerate, even as her own heart began to race. “She sounds like she knew what she was talking about.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, looking considerate. “Maybe she was right, we can’t keep trying to chase thunderbolts.”

Peggy shifted, unsettled, unsure if he’d figured out the truth or not. “Good day, General.”

“Have yourself a good one, Director Carter.”

She left his office, murmuring a polite goodbye to his poor, frazzled assistant, thanking all of the stars above that she had decided against wearing her favorite hat to Washington that day. She would have a hard time explaining the nature of her existence in 2011 to Thaddeus Ross, and she didn’t particularly relish the idea of having to do it. While the knowledge that she was the Peggy Carter that had founded SHIELD was well known in the agency itself, few outside of it knew the truth. It saved having to explain the reason why she disappeared, and moreso, the way she had found herself in the 21st century more than a year ago. 

Time travel might have been invented by Tony Stark, but it hadn’t been invented by him yet. From what she understood of the timeline, they were several years out from that eventuality, her existence even here being an accident on the part of one Scott Lang, the man who had been mad enough to come back in time to find her. He’d meant to leave her in 2012 for reasons he’d never quite explained, but had set her own device wrong, and so she had ended up in New York two years earlier than scheduled. There she was, a woman from 1948, left to fend for herself in 21st century New York. She had done what any other spy and veteran of World War II would have done, she kept her head, made some reliable friends, and got herself to what was familiar to her, in this case SHIELD. From there she had managed to build a new life for herself in this new century, finding a niche in the modern version of the agency she had founded.

Peggy wouldn’t lie, she missed her old life, her old friends - Howard, Edwin and Ana, Daniel, Angie - and yet, she had created something good on this side of the time divide as well. She had her brother Michael’s family. She had Juan and Jose, her dear friends in New York. And she had colleagues who she had come to build trust in - Coulson, Barton, Kam, Burk, Hill, even Romanoff. And above all else, she had hope and the knowledge that somewhere in the frozen waters between Canada and Greenland lay a long forgotten wreck, the resting place of the only successful super soldier she knew of. With any luck, they would find Steve Rogers soon and bring him back to the land of the living. Peggy had risked so much, had given up too much for them not to find him. 

After all, it wasn’t just her that needed him, so too did the world. Beyond the personal, Steve as well as Tony were key in forming the Avengers. What would happen then, Peggy wasn't sure. All she knew from Scott Lang was that they were the two who sat at the center of it, and somehow she would have to make it work. Considering the fact that Ross was practically begging her to take Stark off his hands for him, Peggy could only imagine what would happen once she brought Howard’s genius, cocky, spoiled son together with Steve, a man who had an Irish Catholic martyr complex so big, he flew an airplane into an iceberg. Thankfully, she’d had plenty of practice managing not only Starks, but Steve Rogers as well. She prayed that would give her some sort of leg up in all of this.

Peggy threaded her way out of the Pentagon, through the many levels of security and guards on duty. She had been many times before, but only twice since she had come forward in time. The building had been renovated and remodeled more than once since, most notably and sadly in 2002, and she found herself wandering, trying to find her way out. She dug the phone out of her purse, the one infernal, modern device she had surprisingly found herself attached to, if nothing else because everyone else seemed to be as well. Unsurprisingly, there were messages already on it, one she recognized from her niece, Sharon, who Peggy had called earlier to let her know she was in town. The other was from an unregistered number, no name, no message, and no further indication as to who they were and what they were calling about. It didn’t matter, she knew it was Nick Fury. She at least waited till she found her way out of the building - after asking a security guard and feeling rather embarrassed about it - before she bothered calling the one person she knew could get her through reliably to Fury.

“Hello, Carter,” Maria Hill answered in one, unsurprised by Peggy’s voice on the other end of the line. “How did it go with Thunderbolt Ross?”

“That’s a ridiculous nickname, you know.” Peggy rolled her eyes. The man had a temper, no doubt, but he was hardly anyone deserving that sort of moniker. “I saw that Fury was trying to find me?”

“He is, he wanted you to come in after your meeting at the Pentagon.”

Peggy didn’t even bother asking how it was he knew she was in town. “Which one of us was he worried about coming out in one piece, me or Ross?”

“I think he was in no doubt who would have their ass kicked in that conversation. I only want to know how bad did you make him cry?”

Peggy chuckled, finding her rented vehicle in the visitors’ parking area. “Only a little and mostly in laughter. I know this will shock you, but he underestimated me in our negotiations. I surprised him so completely he couldn’t stop laughing.”

“Not the reaction I would have expected, but then again, I don’t know how often Ross gets beaten up by a girl, or anyone for that matter. He tends to like to bluster his way out of situations.”

“Well, I think Tony Stark has been bullying him, so I will say he was already softened up.” Peggy fully admitted she liked the tough, no nonsense Hill. There was something about the ex-Navy commander that reminded her a bit of the kind of women she had known in the war, all in the same mold, trying to find some order in the chaos of destruction. As Fury’s right hand woman, it was Hill’s job to maintain operational control and functionality for all of SHIELD, a job that would have overwhelmed most anyone else. She along with Phil Coulson, Fury’s top operative and head of field agents, ran most of everything under the current head of SHIELD...everything except Peggy and her project. That was hers and hers alone.

“Can I give Fury an ETA on when you will get here?”

“The convenient GPS on this vehicle says it should take me six minutes, but we all know that is a bloody lie.” Peggy could practically see the glittering towers of the Triskelion from where she sat in the parking lot, shining in the distance in the middle of the Potomac River. “I would say closer to twenty minutes.”

“I’ll give him a heads up.”

“Any idea why he really wants to see me.”

Only the tiniest of exhales hinted that whatever it was, Hill didn’t think it was good news. “He’s been talking to Pierce, so I’m guessing it isn’t going to be something that will make anyone happy.”

Alexander Pierce, the mysterious hand behind Nick Fury. Peggy had yet to meet him, though she’d read up on him. He was well respected in the intelligence community, a man who was praised for his desire to do what was right and necessary for peace, a man who had the ear of not only the American president, but several other foreign ones as well, not to mention prime ministers. While Fury could claim the title of “director of SHIELD”, a role that had once been her own, Pierce was the Secretary of the World Security Council tasked with overseeing it. It wasn’t a role that had existed in her own day, that had come later under Howard’s tenure heading up the agency, but from what little she had seen it was simply and over-glorified bureaucratic position, one that tended to get in the way more than actually help. 

That could of course be Peggy’s own inherent bias talking, she acknowledged. She had never been fond of politicians sticking their nose into SHIELD, not even in 1948, and she remembered all too well the chaos and glad-handing types like Senator Brandt, who had inserted themselves into the process and ended up doing more harm than good. Abraham Erskine wouldn’t have died if it hadn’t been for Brandt, and if he had lived, perhaps Bruce Banner wouldn’t currently be suffering from a condition that turned him into a giant, green, unthinking monster.

Peggy grimaced as she pressed the button that started the rental car. “Tell Fury I’m on my way.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy has a less-than-ideal meeting with Fury.

Peggy never failed to marvel at the lobby of SHIELD’s central headquarters, a large, spacious place, full of gray tile and natural light, people wandering about in between offices and duties. Unlike the Pentagon, which had all of the heavy utility of a building built in the 1940s, the Triskelion was modern and sleek, with chrome and glass, feeling less cloistered and more futuristic. Even the SHIELD eagle looked far more stylized, sitting in the middle of the lobby, nothing more than a matte, metallic gray shadow, the mid-afternoon sun outlining it as she walked past it.

This was the legacy she, Phillips and Howard had left behind. Some days it boggled her mind that the insane idea she and Howard cooked up somehow evolved into something like this. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to think on. The SHIELD that existed in 2011 was nothing like the small, relatively new and toothless creation she had left behind. Then she had been forced to fight tooth and nail to get anyone to pay attention to her or to take SHIELD seriously. Now, it operated as one of the most powerful intelligence and global security groups in the world, a name that sometimes commanded respect, sometimes commanded derision, sometimes fear. Peggy had to admit that even a year into her tenure here in this century she was still trying to wrap her head with what this organization had become and the purpose it now filled on a larger world stage. Whether or not she felt that purpose was good or even right...that she was still sorting through. The world was a much different place than it had been in 1948, and she was still trying to understand it.

Even more of a mystery was the man she was here to see.

Fury had hardly batted an eye when Peggy arrived on his doorstep over a year ago, a dead woman who was not only living and breath, but who still looked as she had the night she disappeared. He’d merely offered her a place in SHIELD, her old title - more as a formality than anything else - and a project to call her own, to put together his so-called Avengers Initiative. Peggy suspected he had passed it off to her partly because of outside pressures demanded his focus and attention, partly because she walked into the door with at least knowledge of it thanks to Scott Lang’s rushed and convoluted explanation. She had at least not laughed in Fury's face when he mentioned the idea of a group of people with extraordinary talents pulled together to be there to help solve the worst crises’ that could threaten the world. Many people would have mocked him for it. Peggy knew something about having insane ideas and executing them. Perhaps that gave her a bit of perspectives others didn’t have.

Of course, it hadn’t taken her much at all to agree to the scheme. After all, what else was she going to do with herself in this new life? And Lang had seemed to believe she was the only one who could bring these Avengers together and make them work, an idea she still felt was preposterous, but she had committed to all the same, knowing that sometime in the future there would be a threat that would potentially kill half of everything in the universe. As much as the strangeness of it all should leave her baffled, she found herself occasionally lying awake at night with a sense of dread that something was coming and she wouldn’t be able to pull this off after all.

Fury’s office was on the topmost floor of the tower overlooking the city of Washington DC. The entire building was outfitted with a computerized artificial intelligence, one that monitored all security, so despite how ridiculous it made her feel, talking to thin air, Peggy still stepped into the lift and gave her name and business. “Peggy Carter, here to see Director Fury.”

“Carter, Margaret E. for Director Fury by special appointment,” the robotic, vaguely feminine sound voice confirmed, closing the doors and setting the floor level on the screen. “Director Fury is expecting you.”

“He better be, seeing as he called me,” she grumbled, watching the floors pass by outside of the glass walls of the elevator itself. Spring had come to the city, finally, and out towards the National Mall she could see the frothy spill of palest pink, the cherry blossoms that were famous this time of year. She hadn’t seen those in a long time, not since she had lived in a different decade, though, to be honest, she had been far too busy to see them then, too.

The doors opened on the quiet floor, the white hallways silent as she stepped past closed office doors for Senior Directors covering massive areas of SHIELD’s overall strategic initiatives. Had she chosen to be in DC and centralize herself out of this building, she’d have had an office here and likely hated it. She was far too used to the hustle and bustle of a more open space, and even her office in New York had a door that was mostly open, which was usefully with Cassandra Kam bustling in and out of it. This felt silent and secretive, and Peggy found her skin creeping at the quiet murmurs and whispers she could only just hear behind closed doors.

Fury’s office was one of the largest and she was hardly surprised when the door opened without her having to knock. The future was so automated, she was shocked anyone had to open a door anymore. Still, for Nick Fury, a man who was quite possibly one of the most paranoid people Peggy had ever met, there must be comfort in always being able to see what was coming.

“Direct Carter,” Fury called from his desk, barely raising his one good eye from the tablet in front of him, waving a hand towards the chair sitting opposite of his own formidable one. “Glad you could come in for a chat. How is Thaddeus Ross?”

“Cursing your name, which I suspect is normal.” She settled, crossing her legs as she set down her briefcase. Fury still was preoccupied by what was on the screen, but he at least chuckled at her description of Ross.

“Yeah, he and I didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye last time we talked.”

“Hopefully, you gave him hell over the entire super soldier project he engaged in. Honestly, it was an unethical, hot mess from start to finish.”

“I know and I told him so, but Ross hasn’t ever given much thought to things likes ethics and morality when he could have a bigger weapon than the other guy.” Fury finally did set down the tablet, his good eye baleful as he regarded her. “Ruined the life of an exceptional mind because he wanted to have an army of Captain Americas and didn’t care that the man was his daughter’s own fiance. He’s a piece of work.”

“How did SHIELD even let it happen,” Peggy wondered, shocked they hadn’t tried to stop it at the time.

“Didn’t know about it, frankly. No one realized the Army would have still had access to any of the old Project: Rebirth research. We thought that was turned over in your time. Not to mention we were in the middle of a global war on terrorism at the time, so most of our resources were directed towards that, and with all of the angry threats of smite coming from the Defense Department, we thought it was best not to pick too many fights over there.”

An understandable quandary, Peggy supposed. She had read all the briefings on the last decade of global threats and knew all too well the precarious situation the world had been in for several years and the predictable US response to it. “He used the situation to advance his own private agenda.”

Fury shrugged lazily. “One could argue Chester Phillips did the same thing in creating Captain America, so who am I to judge?”

He was right, she acknowledged, even if she hated comparing Thaddeus Ross and his ego to Chet Phillips. “That all said, I got what I wanted.”

Fury blinked for a moment, surprised and impressed. “He gave you Banner?”

“More or less, he’s not found him yet.” That part dampened the satisfaction she got out of pushing Ross to give in. “He is looking though, he didn’t deny that.”

“What did you have to give him for it?”

Peggy smirked, unashamed of her pride in getting two birds with one stone. “He wants us to handle the Stark situation.”

Fury snorted loudly, incredulous as he leaned back in his seat. “Is that all? We were going to do it anyway, with or without the Army’s permission.”

“I know, but he didn’t know that. Stark’s behavior is increasingly upsetting and concerning people around here and the harder they push, the harder he pushes back. None of them know how to manage him.”

“I’m not so certain we do, either,” Fury muttered. He had already approached Stark once and been shut down. Peggy knew better than to make the same mistakes Fury did.

“I can handle him,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I just have to get him in the spot where he will listen, and that takes patience. Once he gets there, I believe he will be willing to cooperate with us.”

“Good luck with that,” Fury replied, in a tone that said he’d already been burned by Stark and was doubtful of Peggy’s success in this venture. “We will need a win on this one, Carter, I’m not going to lie. There are people above my pay grade who feel we let this Stark thing get out of control and they are riding my ass for it.”

“Stark is a private citizen, the suit of his was developed out of proprietary technology he himself either owns outright or invented, there isn’t a lot any of them can do about it.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t nervous. You may be fine with Stark owning a weapon of mass destruction, but the World Security Council is not.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at the histrionics of that statement. “What do they expect him to do with it, level cities?”

“He could, in theory.” Fury didn’t sugar coat it, pinning Peggy with a pointed expression. She shrugged, doubting Tony would ever resort to that, but she could see the concern in it. “Stark is an unpredictable personality at best. Why do you think I have Romanoff on his detail? I need eyes and ears on him. You may think the best of him because you were friends with his daddy, and I trust that judgement. But he has twenty years of snap, bad decisions under his belt as well as undiagnosed and untreated case of PTSD, coupled with a pre-existing dependency on alcohol, none of which is good when he has a suit that can take out billion-dollar jet planes. There is a reason people like Senator Stern are screaming for the government to take his toys.”

It was a fear that even Peggy admitted was justified. “Is that all part of Romanoff’s assessment?”

“And part of yours,” he shrugged, a reminder she had been working on his case last year, too. “Look, I know you were close to Howard, but even he had the tendency of making insane weapons he thought were a good idea at the time, only to find out after an accident they were a nightmare. The Battle of Finow ring any bells?”

It did and Peggy shifted, uncomfortably, in her seat. “The Battle of Finow was what happens when a general gets a hold of a untested bit of Stark technology and uses it without permission or truly understanding what it is they have on their hands. That could have been avoided if the general in question had actually listened to Howard and not used it. In this case, Tony knows what he has in his hands in that suit, no one else does. It’s best left in his hands. Anyone else gets it, and it could be a disaster.”

“That’s the problem, other people are trying to get it.” Fury flipped his tablet around, a video already playing on the glass screen. It was an experiment being run by a company Peggy knew was positioned as rivals to the Starks, Hammer Industries. “Justin Hammer has been working on a version, and he’s not the only one. Everyone from the Department of Defense to North Korea is trying to recreate Stark’s work to varying degrees of success.”

With a spark the suit itself caught on fire as teams ran towards it with fire retarding extinguishers, a cloud of smoke and gas flying up as the distinct voice of someone could be heard screaming to put him out. Peggy gasped, feeling the blood drain from her face as her expression flew up to meet Fury’s. “He can’t be serious!”

Fury was grave as he took it back. “The other side of this equation that no one is talking about is not only is Tony Stark the soul owner of a dangerous weapon, it’s a weapon that now everyone else wants and they can’t figure out how he did it. So they are trying to backwards engineer it. It’s not just about controlling a weapon and keeping it out of Stark’s hands, it’s also about trying to recreate it, to see how it works so they can have it for themselves. Sure, they are using the excuse of fears for the safety of the public and no government oversight, but don’t be fooled, they also want to rebuild his toy for their use. Could you imagine the army who had one of these puppies in their arsenal - or a whole fleet of them?”

“They would be unstoppable,” Peggy muttered in horror.

“Against everything but someone like an angry Bruce Banner.”

It all started to make a strange sort of sense. “Do you think that’s why Ross has been pushing to find him again? So he could have something to counter Stark?”

Fury shrugged, lazily. “It’s what I would do, but I think it’s more the fact that Ross has had a hate on for Banner for years. It just so happens that conveniently, Banner is the one person on this planet who could go against Tony Stark and stop him if the Army needed to. Ross is using that as an excuse to use resources to capture him.”

What a mess…

“Well, I’m working on getting them both under our auspices,” she confirmed, feeling confident in her work. “Once they are in SHIELDs hands, no one can complain. They will have oversight and we will be the ones vouching for them and responsible for their actions.”

“Yeah, about that.” Fury’s expression turned grim again. “That was the reason I called you here. I have some news you aren’t going to like.”

That put Peggy on pins and needles. “Such as?”

“The World Security Council doesn’t like our plans.”

Peggy could only blink at him for a long moment. “Which ones in particular?”

“The Avengers Initiative.”

She sighed, throwing up her hands, dramatically, both surprised and unsurprised by this. “Of course, politicians are not understanding the point. What don’t they like?”

“The idea that there are individual human beings who have rights and free will and are protected by the laws of their specific country of origin.”

“Of course, lest we let humanity get in the way of it all.” Peggy glowered. “They don’t like the idea because they can’t control every aspect of it.”

“I don’t necessarily disagree with all of their assessment, Carter.” Fury laid his cards out on the table, so to speak. “An individual isn’t a gun or a bomb you can point at someone and fire. Even worse, what we are talking about with this Avengers Initiative are people - not even soldiers - who we would be using to manage large global problems of a grand scale. Getting a group like that together is risky at best, but as Stark is demonstrating in spectacular fashion, controlling or directing them is a whole other thing entirely. If an Avenger were to go off the script, do their own thing, that looks bad on everyone - them, SHIELD, the World Security Council, and anyone else caught up in it.”

It still nettled Peggy he was playing devil’s advocate. “If you agree with them, why are you pushing it?”

“Because I think their opinion is short sighted and they are relying too heavily on outdated notions of threat assessment and they have no idea what our threats in this universe truly are. I’ve seen them, and I know the potential of what a person like Stark or Rogers can do and what sort of challenges they could face.”

Peggy studied Fury for a long moment. He had never said it, and she had never asked, but she had always suspected he had seen...something. He’d been spooked by someone or something, a threat that was big, one he wasn’t willing to share with everyone yet, and that was the impetus for this half mad idea in the first place. He had certainly not been shocked by the idea of aliens or Thanos when she had first mentioned them a year ago. Perhaps he understood something that the World Security Council did not or would not.

“What’s out there, Nick,” she asked, bluntly.

He grimaced at the use of his first name. “You said it yourself, aliens, someone who wants to kill half the universe. We aren’t alone, Carter, I know that, you know that, but not everyone on the World Security Council wants to acknowledge that. And that’s just the extra-terrestrial threats, there are perfectly dangerous ones right here on Earth as well. I know that the Avengers will be needed, even if they don’t.”

He was dancing around something. “So, the World Security Council doesn’t like the idea of the Avengers? What does that mean?”

“They want to cut funding for it.”

That caught Peggy up short. “Cut funding? We hardly have any to speak of! It’s me and Cassandra Kam in a back office in New York.”

“Not to mention the resources used to find Stark, the search for Steve Rogers, all of that.”

Panic rose in Peggy, real fear as she read between the line of what Fury was saying. “They want to stop the search for Steve?”

“They don’t precisely see the point of looking for a dead man, I believe is their argument.”

“But he’s not dead! He’s alive up there, I know he is!” For the first time in their conversation, her calm, cool facade cracked, displaying a vulnerability she hadn’t wanted to show to Fury. She didn’t care. Part of the reason she had even taken on this Avengers project was the promise that they would find Steve and bring him back. She’d agreed to come to the future and find him, not stay in the past and find him, so he could help protect the world from what was coming. They couldn’t just leave him there.

“Carter,” Fury’s tone was surprisingly gentle. “I’m not saying we stop. I’m saying they don’t understand or see the reason for it, and they are the ones that I, as director, have to answer to. They want to stop using SHIELD resources to search for Rogers and redirect them elsewhere.”

“Like where,” she snapped, unreasonably angry and not even caring.

“A lot of places, but there are other projects, more high profile ones that the World Security Council has invested a lot of time and money in and that they are more interested in seeing through.”

“Like what?”

“That’s classified,” he shot back, easily, earning nothing but more of Peggy’s ire.

“I still have the rank and title of Director here.”

“And yet you don’t have the full classification status to know everything.” Fury was unperturbed. “I didn’t do it to handicap you, Carter, I did it because there are things that have long been in the works, things that the World Security Council has long invested in and they are committed to seeing through.”

It clicked with her what he meant by that. “The other projects you are working on, the ones that kept you from the Avengers Initiative.”

“Got it in one,” he teased with a ghost of a smile. “They feel those projects are more secure and promising than a group of unpredictable people with dangerous powers trying to protect the world. I don’t tend to agree with them, but I am a man who understands the wisdom of having multiple plans for any bad scenario that comes around, because something is going to go wrong at some point. You can’t plan for everything, but you can damn well try.”

Peggy considered. He had a point, relying on one plan and one plan only for a dire situations was foolhardy at best, and having multiple contingency plans should things hit the fan only made common sense. It was one of the most basic rules of spycraft and global threat assessment. Still, something about the fact he wouldn't’ even explain it, even to her, left her feeling unsettled. She didn’t like not knowing what the plan was, despite his assurances. “So they want to redirect funds from the Avengers Initiative, what little there are, to fund their secret contingency plans?”

“One could argue the Avengers are their contingency plan, but essentially, yes.”

“So what does that mean for myself and Agent Kam?”

“For now, nothing. I’m hoping to talk them out of it, but I have some workarounds if push comes to shove.”

Peggy didn’t know Fury well, but what little she did know of him was that he was highly intelligent, cunning and crafty and never seemed to let a setback stop him. She didn’t doubt Fury had considered the possibility already and created failsafes just in case. “Have you squirreled money that we don’t know about under your mattress?”

That made him laugh outright, his one good eye turned to her in appreciation. “Lord knows, Carter, you aren’t stupid. Metaphorically, yeah, I suppose you could say that. Funds from other projects I’ve put in other places for things like this. I just have to sit back, keep my nose clean with the World Security Council, and play my hand right.”

The delicate dance of funding and personalities, the one aspect of the job of director Peggy didn’t miss. “And what about the search for Steve? If they won’t fund it, how will that proceed?”

“I’ve already been chatting with trade ships and scientists who are up in that area a lot. They are all well aware that SHIELD is interested in finding the remains of _The Valkyrie_ should they turn up, mostly as it was HYDRA technology. I’ve not told them the Steve Rogers angle. There’s a nice reward set aside if someone finds him, and Canada has promised to call me if he turns up. Honestly, we have narrowed the search down to a specific area. My hope is it won’t be long. The way that climate change is melting the ice, he should be pretty easy to spot when they do get to him.”

It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was one. Considering the alternative, Peggy knew she’d have to take it. “I hope it’s sooner rather than later.”

“Me too,” Fury sighed, a rare moment of compassion from him. “I wanted to give you a heads up, this is going to be a bare knuckled fight with the council. It’s not going to be pretty and they will make this personal. We don’t have a lot of room for error on this, so you’ll have to be careful how you step with both Stark and Banner.”

“I’ll try. Banner is still AWOL with no clue as to where he is and only Ross paying any attention, and I trust him about as much as I trust the World Security Council.” Peggy grimaced. “And as for Tony...one can only do their best with him.”

“Try and do better,” Fury insisted. “I’m keeping Romanoff on him, she can be a resource for you in corralling Stark and watching his movements. Use her, she’s the best agent I have and uniquely suited for this. If you need me stepping in with him, let me know. I’m not sure if I have any sway with Stark, but I can do what I can.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, sensing a dismissal in all of this. “As always, keep me posted on the rest.”

He only grunted and nodded as Peggy gathered herself and moved towards the door of his office, unsettled by the conversation. Before she could make it out, however, the door opened, nearly sending Peggy straight into the front of the Secretary of the World Security Council. She just caught herself before slamming into him, but not before he reached a hand to hold her elbow, just as surprised by their near collision as she was.

“Oh, pardon,” she gasped, flashing an apologetic, embarrassed smile.

“My apologies, I came barging in. Was hoping Nick was available.”

“I am,” Fury had risen, sauntering over, curious as his good eye flickered from one to the other. “I don’t know if you two have had a chance to formally meet. Alexander Pierce, this is Peggy Carter.”

Peggy, of course, knew of the man and certainly recognized his face. Now well into his seventies, he wasn’t tall, but he was distinguished, a man who at one point had likely been quite handsome in his youth and who had managed to hold on to it, aging gracefully and well. It was the sort of elder statesmen look she would expect out of a man who played the game of politics enough to be the Secretary of the World Security Council.

“Secretary Pierce,” she politely nodded, holding out her hand to meet his in greeting. “Director Fury has spoken of you.”

“He’s said a great deal about you as well, though I knew about you long before you reappeared. You are a legend here in SHIELD, a trailblazer. Without you, none of this would exist!” His smile, perfect, straight and white, was easy. “I can’t believe it has taken us this long to meet.”

“Carter has been the one running point on the Stark situation.” Fury stepped in, nodding to her. “I’m hoping she will be able to help reign him in before the US government does.”

“That will be a hot mess if they try,” Pierce replied, dryly.

“It’s a hot mess now,” Peggy responded, not mincing words. “But if we can bring him under SHIELD auspices it would mitigate a lot of the problems for everyone.”

Pierce seemed briefly surprised by that. “Stark is notoriously stubborn and insular, and doesn’t really like to take directions or listen to rules. You think you can convince him?”

“If I could manage one Stark, what is another?” She shrugged, glancing to Fury and guessing what Pierce had come to see him about. “I’ll leave you two to discuss projects and money while I go see what I can do about this Iron Man.”

She nodded to Pierce as she made to leave. “A pleasure, Mr. Secretary.”

“Of course, Director Carter. I hope we can sit down and chat sometime soon.”

She finally made her way out of the automatic door, wishing she could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. She’d heard things about Pierce, mostly from bits and bobs of conversation. He had been a high flyer in the US State Department, working his way through the ranks of foreign service, coming across Fury when the two served in Colombia, in South America. Pierce had gone on to join the World Security Council in the 1980s, fitting in neatly there, just as Fury had made his transition from the CIA to SHIELD. The two came up together and now sat at the top of SHIELD’s highest ranks. 

What that meant, Peggy wasn’t sure. She wasn’t naive enough not to believe that Pierce’s influence in and outside of the World Security Council hadn’t brought Fury to SHIELD’s doorstep. She knew that there were rumbles, even within SHIELD itself, about the directions SHIELD was taking, especially in regards to foreign policy. But, she didn’t know the big picture. She was fairly certain she was only being shown a part of it, on purpose, but for what reason and at whose instigation she didn’t know. All she knew was Fury, and he had accepted her completely and without reservation, handing her his pet project and giving her anything and everything Peggy had asked for. What that meant, she didn’t know. Pierce was an unknown to her, a mystery outside of their brief encounter just then and what little she’d been able to snoop out. That he was respected in many circles was without doubt. What that meant, she would have to find out.

Caught in her own thoughts, she nearly forgot to inform the lift’s AI what floor she wanted as she entered in, alone, the doors closing behind her. “Floor 35, please.”

“Floor 35, going down.” The ethereal voice of the computer running it all sounded pleasant as always. Peggy wondered how anyone got used to it, these computers with personalities, running things. Thinking machines weren’t unknown to her, she had been at Bletchley Park and had known of some of Alan Turing’s work, but she couldn’t imagine he or anyone else could have foreseen that in a few short decades, within the lifetime of one person, their creations would evolve to be able to run systems and to share disembodied pleasantries in an elevator. The lift came to a stop on the 35th floor and Peggy stepped off, wandering to the tower she knew she would find her nieces cubicle.

Though she had made the offer to Sharon to accept a transfer to New York if she wanted, Sharon had elected to find her way in Washington in the position she was in. Working the US desk on domestic security perhaps wasn’t the most glamorous job in all of SHIELD, but Sharon took her work seriously enough. As Peggy came up to the gray sided space that was enclosed off as her own, she could see her niece frowning at a large computer screen with the same sort of frown that Peggy often had when doing the same thing.

“Be careful, your face might stick that way.” Peggy leaned against the shorter, front wall of the space, resting her hands and chin on the top. Sharon looked up, pleasantly surprised, a grin lighting her face.

“Hey, you’re done early. Thaddeus Ross didn’t explode on you?”

“Actually, it was the most pleasant conversation I’d had with the man,” Peggy replied honestly. Sharon had heard Peggy’s many rants about the idiotic general. “I had to come here to meet with Fury.”

“Oh?”

Being Peggy’s niece, Sharon was genetically predisposed to curiosity, and Peggy could hear it in her quiet question. Still, this was not the place for those sorts of conversations, not with spies abounding to hear. “It is politics and money, the usual sort of thing.”

“Isn’t it always? You would think because we aren’t part of a national government, our budgets tied to this administration or that political party, we could avoid all of that.”

“We’re humans, I think it goes with the territory,” Peggy bemoaned, glancing at her watch. “It’s a bit early, but if you can knock off early, we could wander about. I want to play tourist and look at the cherry blossoms.”

“You and everyone else,” she teased, already closing down her computer. “I was thinking we could order in and hang out at my place. I’m trying to think what we haven’t tried yet food wise. I was shocked you put up with sushi so well!”

“I’ve lived on worse things than raw fish,” Peggy laughed, though in fairness, she was a bit surprised she had liked it as well as she had. Privately, she had been somewhat horrified at the idea of eating raw fish, but had bravely done so at Sharon’s egging on. “I’ll let you choose. I’ve done enough decision making for now.”

“That sort of day, huh?” Sharon grabbed her things, packing up for the day as she gathered her briefcase and slipped files in, then stuck her phone into her purse.

“Well, I managed to get all the things I want and may still come to regret all of it.”

Sharon eyed her as she slipped both her briefcase and purse over her shoulder. “Only you could make that sound cheerful.”

“I’m being dramatic, darling, it is less the end of the world and more just a puzzle I have to manage, that’s all.”

“I don’t ever tend to regret puzzles.”

“You haven’t been in this game long enough, then.” For all that Peggy was only physically two years older than her great-niece, she had already spent a decade in the field, half again as long as Sharon and in far more difficult conditions. “Give it another five years and you can be as jaded as me.”

“Oh, you aren’t jaded. You have met Fury, correct?”

“Good point,” Peggy laughed, following in Sharon’s wake towards the exit. “I don’t know if anyone could be quite as cynical as that.”

“I think it’s the eye,” Sharon gleefully giggled with a roguish wink. “Don’t you ever wonder how he lost it?”

Truth be told, Peggy had, but considering she had lived through a war where many men had lost everything from eyes to legs, she knew it was impolite to ask. “I assumed some accident along the way.”

“I’m endlessly curious. Small wonder he’s paranoid. I bet it’s some ridiculous story involving Eastern European spies and a knife fight on a bridge somewhere.”

While she knew her niece was joking, Peggy still couldn’t help but shake her head, fairly certain it wasn’t that. “Where do you get these ideas?”

“Not all of us have lives of exciting adventure working for SHIELD, Aunt Peggy.”

“I wouldn’t say exciting,” Peggy countered as Sharon called the lift again. “When we get out of here I’ll tell you my latest project.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy takes a walk with Sharon down memory lane.

“Oh my God! What is this?”

Peggy looked up from the packing box she was picking through to eye whatever it was Sharon had in her hand. “I believe that’s a girdle. We used to wear those all the time in those days.”

“Torture device!” Sharon threw it back into the box she was sifting through with an air of horrified disgust. “Why would anyone wear that?”

“You couldn’t wear some of the fashions of the day without one. Besides, how else does one go about wearing garters?”

Sharon considered that thoughtfully as she studied one of Peggy’s old blouses, one she hadn’t been fond of. It was why she had left it behind in the 1940s, a sage colored rayon print that might look good on Sharon instead. “You can have that one if you like. I hardly wore it but once or twice. May need a good cleaning though before you wear it.”

“Probably, it’s been up in Mom and Dad’s attic forever.” She sniffed the collar and wrinkled her nose. “Mmm, musty. Still, it’s held up well over sixty plus years.”

“Mmm,” Peggy observed, flipping through papers and books, the detritus of a life she had walked away from over a year before. When she came to New York in 2010, it was with only the clothes on her back and in the rucksack she had brought with her, along with the mementos that meant the most: her grandmother’s jewels, her personal makeup, important papers, and Steve’s picture now framed on the vanity in her room. Most of the things she had collected in her years on her own she had left behind. There was the new book she had meant to read but had never gotten around to, now decades out of print. There was the small, plastic figure of a young woman on a surfboard, a memento of an outing with Rose in California. Then there was a perfectly smooth, round, pearly white stone she had found in a riverbed in Romania and had held on for luck while tramping through the forests of Europe alongside the Howling Commandos. A whole lifetime of things from a world that was now well and truly gone.

Since her disappearance on New Year’s Day in 1949, Peggy’s things had been packed and stored away, she assumed by people from SHIELD first, then passed along to her brother, Michael, at some point. They were then inherited by Harry, who for whatever reason seemed to keep them. Now the crates were taking space in Sharon’s meager shoebox of an apartment and had become the project of the evening. Over cartons of meaty, soft Chinese dumplings - which Peggy had to admit she did enjoy a good deal - they had opened a bottle of wine and started picking through the remains of Peggy’s past life.

“Is this...a thigh holster?” Sharon studied the two strips of elastic and fabric with the clear holster sewn into it.

“Oh, yes, an Ana Jarvis special.” Peggy slipped up her skirts to show off the one she was wearing. “I know there are nicer, fancier modern ones you can buy, but there is sentimentality around this one.”

“Did they not have them when you were first an agent?”

“Oh, they had them, but just not usually for ladies. This was more fashionable to wear under a skirt and I could still wear it with tactical gear in the field. Since no one would sell one to a lady, the lady had one made.”

“It’s nice,” Sharon eyed it admiringly.

“That’s a spare. You can have it, of course.”

A small, gleeful smile lit her face. “Really?”

“Honestly, I am not sure why you don’t have one already. If you go out in the field ever, it’s vital. You can’t always depend on the holster tucked at your back.”

“That’s the only one I’ve had thus far.” She folded it nicely and tucked it up beside her. “You have had far too many crazy adventures. You are only technically slightly older than I am and I feel like you have already done all the things in life.”

“Not all,” Peggy replied, sipping her wine and thinking. “I mean, there are a great many things I’d love to do just to do, not just say I’m doing them.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, considering. She had given so little thought to the answer to that question. She’d spent every day of her life since 1939 running, doing, and fighting. Ten years of either serving in a war, or ending a war, or deciding what comes after that war and before the next one. What did one do when you weren’t drying to build up a global security agency or a team of super powered humans to protect the world from existential alien threat? Peggy didn’t know.

“When I was younger, I wanted to travel.” She laughed, remembering. “I was in love with those pulpy stories of adventurers looking for lost cities and hidden treasures in the world, seeing exotic sites and finding lost, ancient cities.”

“So you were Indiana Jones is what you are saying.”

Peggy stared blankly at her niece, mystified. “I don’t know who that is.”

Sharon grimaced as she took a swig of wine. “I really need to work on your pop cultural references.”

“Hmmm,” Peggy made a non-commital noise, pulling out an album, the covers made of leather, old, black and flaking after decades of storage. “Anyway, when your grandfather and I were young, we used to dream about becoming explorers. I thought for a while he might read archaeology or history at university, but he decided to study law, like our father. Then the war happened. Then everything changed.”

The story of a generation, Peggy sighed, flipping the album gently open. So many faces of people she knew once upon a time whose lives had forever been altered by a war that threatened to tear everything down. What had she been like before then? What had she wanted to be? Would she have ended up where she was now, in a flat in Washington DC in 2011, drinking wine and eating dumplings with her brother’s granddaughter? Or would she have ended up marrying Fred and settling into a comfortable semi-detached, raising his children? Would she have been like so many other women in her generation, falling in love and marrying in a war, uncertain if a future was even possible, only to find out the future wasn’t what you expected it to be? Perhaps, in the end, for all of its madness, the life the war provided for her was a more dangerous life, but ultimately she felt more certain of it than if she had walked down the more traditional path.

“Is that your mother and father?” Sharon’s question caught her attention. She paused on a page with her parents’ wedding photo, a rather solemn looking shot of them for what had been a bittersweet occasion.

“Yes, it is.” Peggy frowned at the faint writing at the bottom of the photostock, the swirls of her mother’s graceful writing. “They were married December, 1916. Dad was home on medical leave. He’d been injured earlier that summer. He never went back to the field after that, instead he got pulled into administrative duty. He had a slight limp after that, though he was as strong as any man, or so he would have you believe.”

Sharon chuckled, studying the fading photograph. “They both look so grim.”

“Well, they were in their way.” It was a bit of family gossip she doubted Sharon even knew about. Peggy wasn’t sure how aware her own brother had been of the tale. “My mother had once been engaged to my uncle, also named Michael.”

Peggy had been right, Sharon hadn’t known. Despite the fact that her niece was an agent in an organization that dealt with spies and secrets everyday, Sharon was particularly stunned with that bit of information. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she reached blindly for her wine glass. “Great-grandma had a scandal in her past? Do tell!”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much scandalous about it,” Peggy chuckled, tipping back her own beverage, holding it out for Sharon who had topped off her own and filled Peggy’s glass once again. “My mother and Uncle Michael met at a ball just before the Great War. I suppose you call it the First World War now. In any case, he courted her, they fell in love and plans were set.”

“And then the war happened.”

Peggy nodded. “Uncle Michael and my father signed up and shipped together. They were as close as two peas, those two, like your grandfather and I were. They were both at the Battle of the Somme. Early on in the offensive, my father was injured, but lived. His Michael didn’t.”

Peggy always remembered the awful heartache in her father's eyes whenever her uncle came up. It had been the end of any innocence for him, the loss of his best friend and childhood companion. For Sharon, she began to put the pieces together with what bits of family history she did know. “Is that who Grandpa was named for?”

“At least his first name, yes. In any case, when Daddy came home, he personally wrote to Mother to tell her about Michael. Dad had promised he would take care of her and see she was informed, and he apologized for not being able to see her personally as he was in the hospital, and I can imagine what a mess that letter had to be. Three days later, here comes Amanda Collins, on the doorstep of this hospital, determined to nurse Harrison Carter back to health herself, thank you very much, and she ignored every other nurse and sister who tried to tell her otherwise.”

“Hmmm, I wonder who that sounds like,” Sharon’s look was pointedly amused.

“I’ve never barged into a hospital ward and taken it over. I tried but it didn’t go well for me.”

“Ahh, well you’ve time yet.”

“In any case, the two of them connected in their shared grief and decided that was enough to build a loving relationship on. The rest was, as they say, history. Perhaps not the most romantic of love stories, but they loved each other and were devoted to one another.”

“Dad said they were very close to one another.” Sharon smiled softly as she studied the photo from a wedding nearly a century before. “Even when they were old and gray, they stayed together.”

“I suppose they had seen so much happiness and grief together, it sort of bonded them.” With a pang of regret and sadness. “But I have other pictures here. I’m sure there are some of your grandfather as a little boy.”

They spent the next half hour marveling over snaps of family members dead and gone decades before, but who were still alive in Peggy’s memory and heart. Cousins she hadn’t seen since she left for America for good, old chums who she had once spent every hour of everyday with who had long since faded from her life, all of them flickered in the pages of her album, memories of another life, long ago. And then they came upon her war photos.

“Is that Howard Stark?” Sharon had moved to the floor beside Peggy, half the album in her lap, a child marveling at the wonders of a bygone age.

“Back when I first met him, yes.” It struck her again how much Tony looked like the man she remembered. They shared the same dark hair, the same smirking squint, even their facial hair was similar. Tony had all of Howard’s swagger of self-confidence, his impulsiveness, and the same hint of mad genius always lurking about him.

“I can see why all the ladies loved him,” Sharon acknowledged, perhaps more than a bit into her cups with the wine. “I’d not kick him out of my bed.”

“You and most of New York and Hollywood, something to consider before making that sort of daring leap.”

“Fair,” Sharon wrinkled her nose in mild disgust. “No wonder Tony is the way he is.”

“He does come by it honestly,” Peggy flipped the page, stopping as she stared at the picture pasted there. “I had forgotten this photo.”

“Is that…” Sharon leaned in closer, grinning in awe and delight. “That’s the Howling Commandos.”

“I think we were in Romania.” Peggy chuckled, trying to place the location in the photo within the framework of her memory. “It was one of the boys’ first missions.”

They were all lined up along the side of a jeep, posing for the photographer, which hadn’t been Peggy, as she was in the shot. That had been very much against her will. She had protested she wasn’t one of the Howling Commandos, but had been overridden very loudly by Dugan and Monty, though it had taken Steve finally to pull her into the shot. He’d linked his elbow around her’s, dragging her beside him, a hint of impudence in the smile he flashed for the camera, even as Peggy tried to plaster something on her face other than shock.

“I forget sometimes that you knew them.” Sharon’s tone was one of amazement and quiet reverence. “I mean, I know you know them, obviously, but seeing it...that’s insane.”

“Back then they weren’t the heroes of myth and legend you all make them out to be now. Frankly, I thought Chester Phillips would have an aneurism at the very idea of sending this lot out into the wilds of Europe alongside his million dollar prized weapon. The biggest bunch of misfits you had ever seen, not a one of them trained for special ops. They were all so different. Half the time they squabbled with one another over petty things, probably because they had nothing better to do. But they all cared for one another. They made a strange sort of family, that lot, all united by the idea of Captain America.”

Steve had always been bemused at how funny she had found the idea. On paper, the Howling Commandos should never have worked, but somehow, Steve made them work. He had that knack, the ability to bring people who had no business working together to unite in common cause and for a higher purpose. He was a natural leader, he always had been. It was why Bucky Barnes had tagged alongside him as a child, it was why Abraham Erskine had singled him out. Even today, had she be given a thousand more chances to choose who would get that serum, Peggy could only think of one person who deserved it.

“Wait...does Steve Roger’s have your arm in his?”

Peggy snapped her attention to Sharon who was giggling in delight. “He had to drag me into the shot. I didn’t want to be in it. Nearly sent me sprawling with it, he still didn’t quite know his strength then.”

“Hmmm, I bet.” There was something curious and knowing in her gleeful laughter. “Had to be so hard being manhandled by Captain America.”

“I wasn’t manhandled,” Peggy retorted in a huff. Sharon was fishing and Peggy knew it. “Steve was always, always a gentleman.”

“I wouldn’t assume anything less from what I’ve heard, never fear. Remember, Steve Rogers is as much a legend in our family as you are. It’s just funny seeing you two looking besotted with each other.”

Her relationship with Steve wasn’t precisely a secret, especially not from Sharon who was well aware of the fact Steve wasn’t dead, but was rather buried, frozen but alive in the Arctic. Still, her niece was teasing, and it hit too close to her conversation with Fury, of the threats of the World Security Council, and of the added delays in finding him. It occurred to her that she was far away from the war and from Steve, and the memory of those moments, of the quietly intense looks he would send her, or the thrill she felt whenever he would return from a mission unscathed. Those felt somehow sacred and private.

“Don’t make it sound so tawdry,” she snapped, surprised by the vehemence in her tone. So was Sharon, who looked rather hurt, pulling back slightly as she frowned down at her mostly empty, second glass of wine.

“Sorry,” she muttered, holding up the glass by way of apology. “Perhaps had a little too much of this than is wise on a school night.”

Well, now she had gone and done it. Peggy immediately felt guilt for cutting her off. Sharon had touched on one of her sorest spots, a part of herself that had never fully healed, no matter how hard she had tried to move on in the years since. She had meant it as good-natured ribbing, a means to connect with an aunt she both revered and hardly knew. Peggy had fallen into that old, instinctual habit of throwing up barriers, shutting people out, more our of reflex at this point. Kicking herself, she set aside her own glass, thinking perhaps she too had perhaps imbibed too much.

“No, Sharon, I’m sorry. That is on me. I just...you didn’t know you were wandering into sacred territory and I reacted badly and I apologize.”

Her niece paused for a long moment before accepting, an apology of her own on her lips. “I’m sorry, too. I suppose I think of you as family, as a peer, and I forget how much I still have to learn about you. I was teasing about something I shouldn’t have and I crossed a line.”

“Apology accepted,” Peggy grinned, reaching a hand for Sharon’s to squeeze briefly. “I realise I’ve sort of have avoided that topic since arriving here.”

“Of Steve Rogers? I can’t say I blame you, given the circumstances.” A wealth of empathy was poured into Sharon’s statement. “Any word from Fury yet on him?”

“Nothing yet,” Peggy sighed, setting aside the album, over her trip down memory lane for now. “Fury’s been told to stop his open search for now.”

That caught Sharon up short. “I’m sorry, what? When?”

“He told me this afternoon.” Peggy reached for her glass, swallowing a healthy mouthful. “The World Security Council wants to move funding around for other projects, ones they don’t feel fit to explain, but which they feel take more precedence than the Avengers, and by extension, Steve.”

“Oh, Peggy!” She was wrapped up quickly in Sharon’s arms, the sort of compassionate embrace she wasn’t even aware she needed. She found herself shockingly teary-eyed, surprised at the depth of feeling her afternoon conversation had engendered.

After several long moments, Sharon pulled away, concern writ on her face. “Okay, but what about Steve Rogers? They can’t just leave him up there knowing he’s alive!”

“Officially, Fury is stopping the search. Unofficially, he’s still got the word out. He hopes someone will turn him up somewhere and from there he can justify a team to go and extract him.”

“I suppose it is hard to justify a search for a dead man to the World Security Council without them having evidence that the dead man is even there to be found.”

“Exactly,” Peggy sighed, running a dusty hand through her hair in frustration. She had hoped they would have found Steve by now. What had Scott Lang said? Hadn’t they found him by 2012. She supposed they still had months for him to surface, but the lack of progress was frustrating.

“But what about the Avengers?”

That was the million dollar question, Peggy mused. “For now, Fury says there will be no change. Cassandra and I will continue the work and hope that Fury somehow figures it out.”

Sharon made a face. “That doesn’t sound like a solid promise.”

“No, but it’s the way things work in politics, a lot of promises of ‘maybe’ and ‘in the future’ while you muddle through, hoping you have money to do anything. In the meantime, I’m expected to somehow find the Army’s lost scientist and put a rein on Tony Stark because the military is afraid of what he will do with that suit of his.”

“In fairness, I see their point.”

Peggy saw less of their point than Sharon did, clearly, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue it. “I’m being asked to put together an elite group of people to save the world with little more than chewing gum and shoestrings and then they want to handicap me in the process. It’s...aggravating.”

“I can see how it would be.” Sharon reached over, grabbing the album Peggy set aside, still open to the picture of the Howling Commandos so long ago on some back road in Romania. “But I don’t know, you helped put this bunch together with even less than you have for the Avengers Initiative, and they came out all right.”

Peggy eyed the lot of them, Dugan and Falsworth, Morita and Jones, Dernier and Barnes, all led by Steve, grinning foolishly at a camera, dirt and mud spattered, flush in their triumph of the day. “That was more Steve’s doing than anything. He had that way with people.”

“And who helped keep them focused and directed where they needed to go? I know the stories, and if Rogers was here, he would say the same thing. You got this. Fury would never have given it to you otherwise.”

Her niece’s boundless belief in her had been echoed by others over the last year and Peggy still marveled at their certainty. She certainly wasn't. Perhaps it was different on this side, when it wasn’t as clear how she would manage to figure her way out of this situation.

Sharon flipped through the aging and crumbling black pages, wrinkling her nose at the dusty smell. She skipped through some of the other pictures of the war and Europe, much to Peggy’s private relief, choosing to find more recent photos of Peggy’s life in New York before she took Scott Lang’s hand and ended up in the 21st century. Here and there, random photographs of a New York City from years gone by were scattered with friends from her previous life.

“Who is this couple,” Sharon asked, tapping a photo in the middle of one page lightly.

“Ahh, Edwin and Ana!” Peggy smiled fondly at them, a sweet photo of the pair of the, Ana of course carefree and smiling brightly, Edwin painfully trying to be relaxed but only managing a stiff and proper smile. “The Jarvis’ worked for Howard, or at least Edwin did. He was Howard’s butler and driver. Ana helped out where she could, but worked elsewhere as well. She was a seamstress.”

“She seems like she would be fun to know!”

“Ana was a lovely person,” Peggy agreed, wishing briefly that Sharon could have met her. “She was sweet and caring, down-to-earth, and the perfect foil for Edwin and his very proper, stiff upper lip. He was so English, he made me look positively ill-bred.”

“So someone Grandmother Amanda would have appreciated?”

“Maybe not, he was the help after all.” God rest her mother’s soul and her very outdated notions of class and deportment. “The two of them were some of the closest friends I had back then.”

“They seem nice,” Sharon agreed, flipping through photos again. “You had some nice friends.”

“I do have some taste. Not all of them were the likes of Howard and Timothy Dugan.”

“Hmmm,” Sharon paused, studying one picture intently, frowning as if trying to place something. “I know this person. Why do I know this person?”

Peggy craned around to see who she was looking at. “Oh, that was Angie! My roommate briefly. I told you about her. She worked at the diner I went to all the time.”

“Angie?” Her niece’s frown only deepened, as if trying to place that somewhere in her memory. “No, I feel I know her from something else. She’s not family?”

“Angie, no! She was an actress, or at least was trying to be.” Even now, Peggy could still hear Angie reciting her lines for whatever random bit part of summer stock role she had somehow managed to wrangle for herself, all the while bemoaning the fact that some lout of a casting agent proclaimed she was not blonde enough, or curvy enough, or her nose was too long, her voice to flat. As much as Peggy had been forced to deal with her own problems as a woman, so too had Angie.

“You know, I tried for years to get her to go and talk to Howard. He owned a movie studio at that point. They didn’t produce much of anything good, from what I understand, but it would have been a stepping off point, at least. She kept insisting that she wasn’t going to be an actress by taking handouts or cutting corners. I don’t know if she ever took up my advice.”

“We could always look.” Of course, Sharon held up her phone, the constant companion of the modern age. “Quick Google search, see what we find.”

She could, Peggy supposed. It would be nice, she thought, to at least know Angie had a good life living her dreams. Instead, she found herself shaking her head, finishing off the last of the cabernet, and pushing herself firmly off the carpet. “Enough for the night.”

Sharon looked somewhat deflated at that, watching Peggy wander to her small kitchen in surprise. “You don’t even want to look?”

“Tonight, no.” She couldn’t explain why. The wine, her old things, the photos, the ghosts of everything she’d stepped away from all scattered around her, they all coalesced together into a pit of anxiety that made her chest ache and her head throb. She couldn’t explain it and she didn’t have a good reason for any of it, but her eyes burned as she rinsed out the wine glass, setting it by the stainless steel sink on the granite counter, bracing her hands briefly against it as she tried to pull herself together. It was all so silly, working herself up like this, and in front of Sharon too.

“Peggy? You all right?” She could hear Sharon’s bare feet pad on the cool tile.

“Fine,” she spun, slapping on a warm smile from somewhere. “You know, just a long day, lots of hard conversations, then this. I think I’ll turn in for the night, if you don’t mind. Maybe we can pack this up for tonight and I can take it with me in the morning to New York.”

“Okay,” Sharon assured her. “Sure, we can do that, or if you just want to take some of it. I can bring the rest up with me in a couple of weeks.”

Still wound up over the evening - the day, really - it didn’t click with Peggy right away what Sharon meant. “In a couple of weeks?”

“I was coming up to you in two weeks, remember? Julio has tickets to the opening of the Stark Expo? We were going to all get together and celebrate your birthday, make it a thing?”

Peggy’s overwrought memory finally pulled it all together in the end. “Oh, that’s right! We were. It was a thing.”

“Yeah! You, me, the boys, Cassie and David. First time we get to meet ‘the boyfriend’.” Despite not working together in the same division, Cassandra and Sharon had helped Peggy find Tony Stark when he was kidnapped and a friendship had developed between the pair. They had been the ones to conspire on this birthday adventure in the first place. If she’d had her way, Peggy wouldn’t have bothered with a birthday, but who was she to say no to it? Besides, now that Tony Stark was not officially her problem once again, she supposed it was as good a time as any to corner him on his current predicament.

“The Stark Expo,” Peggy mumbled, moving to put away her photo album and begin repacking some of her items littered over Sharon’s space. “That has been a nightmare from what Julio tells me. It’s a wonder Stark got it off the ground at all, considering he’s been playing at saving the world.”

“That’s what he has assistants for, right?” Sharon passed her a stack of books, still watching her with concern. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, just...tired.”

“Then leave this.” Sharon grabbed her elbow, turning Peggy away from gathering anything else to put away. “Go get to bed. We’ll deal in the morning.”

“And leave your house a mess? I’m on a flight home tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t get packed, I’ll bring it in a couple of weeks. Seriously, you’ve had a day. Get some rest.”

Far from looking like a Carter, she reminded Peggy more of Sharon's mother, Cynthia. She had a feeling if she was stubborn about it she might lose. “All right. No staying up cleaning up my mess.”

“If it’s neatly packed, you can’t do anything about it, now can you?”

Peggy took back her earlier observation on Sharon. She was Michael’s blood after all. “Very well, but I go under protest.”

“Duly noted, Agent Carter. Good night.”

“The same to you.”

Peggy lay for a long time in the comfort of Sharon’s small guest bed, recalling stories about people and places all long gone and realizing how very alone she felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are confused on the whole Michael - Harry - Sharon thing, there is a lot of hand waving in the first story, "Time and Again." I promise there is a real explanation for it in my head, but I've yet to write that story out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy visits the Stark Expo.

“This was worth the two hours it took just to get into the gate!”

Peggy glanced at Juan Machado’s gleeful face with wry amusement, no less because he had voiced his doubts loudly while they waited in the long lines of traffic and security just to make it inside the Stark Expo at Flushing Meadows in Queens. She had to admit, he had a point. Standing there in the main plaza, with its giant light boards glowing in the growing darkness, the many fountains and displays, the halls filled with technological wonders, and the auditorium with its loud, rock music playing, and a midway with games and rides for, it was a sight to behold. Peggy had never gotten to the Stark Expo in the 1940s, the one where Steve met Dr. Erskine, but she couldn’t imagine that it was anything nearly as grand as this.

“Papí, you promised me kettle corn when we got inside!” Juan took the hand of his partner, Julio Vargas, beseeching him with his favorite tactic, large puppy dog eyes. Julio, a handsome, if somewhat serious man on the whole, nearly always fell for it.

“And I assume you expect me to help you eat it?” Julio was a fan of physical fitness and healthy eating in a way that Juan clearly was not.

“No, because I’ll share with Peggy and Sharon.” He winked at them both as he led the way to one of the many vendor kiosks, with a line of others waiting to stock up on beverages and snacks. “See how I did that? Subtle early statement, pointed reminder, big, sad expression.”

“I don’t think he’d give in if he didn’t secretly like it,” Peggy teased, already noting the amused sparkle in Julio’s eye. “I think he likes spoiling you.”

“If only we could all find a man like that,” Sharon nudged Juan, grinning.

“Girl, I got lucky with mine, so go find your own.” He gave Sharon a cheeky grin. “How come you aren’t all set up with someone yet, anyway. You’re all fit, blonde and pretty, any man should be falling all over themselves for you.”

“Who says they haven’t,” Sharon teased back, laughing. “But seriously, my sort of life, always either working odd hours or hitting the road on a case, it doesn’t make for good relationship material.”

“So, just go for booty call material!” Juan waved an airy hand at this. Peggy, who wasn’t precisely a prude, but was from a time and place where such sexual freedom wasn’t precisely aired out in the middle of a public square like this, blushed. She and Sharon had never spoken of the matter. Sharon was well aware of where Peggy’s heart lay and Peggy surmised Sharon wasn’t precisely a nun, but strangely the subject had not really come up for much discussion between them.

Sharon, however, was only amused with the course of her and Juan's discussion. “Who says I haven’t met some hot, Eastern European man with an accent and permanent 5 o’clock shadow who I meet up with in seedy hotels in Europe for illicit, but potentially dangerous trysts?”

Juan blinked, drinking in this idea. “Seriously, if that’s true, I need every detail.”

Julio, who had been purchasing the requested snacks, shoved a package of kettle corn at Juan, shaking his head. “Not everything is a Jason Bourne movie.”

Juan was completely unfazed. “But if it were…”

They wandered into the crowds and growing twilight of early spring in Queens, excitement in the air. Peggy fell behind companionably with Julio, as Juan and Sharon continued to chatter about her imaginary Russian lover, a figure that was taking on such epic proportions even Peggy had to snort and chuckle listening to them.

“You know, he still is half convinced what you do comes straight out of a spy thriller,” Julio supplied, swigging from a bottle of water and shaking his head at his often quixotic partner. “I keep telling him SHIELD has boring jobs just like everyone else, but he thinks you are somehow _La Femme Nikita_.”

Peggy had not seen that film yet, but she could guess from the title what it was about. “I’m not saying there are perhaps those type of agents at SHIELD, I am not one of them. I’m just...a boring administrator at the moment.”

That was a position she knew Julio could empathize with. He worked in the New York mayor’s office and would often commiserate with Peggy on matters of bureaucratic paperwork and systemic backlogs that were often a headache towards getting anything done. “How are things going over at SHIELD for you? I’ve heard the whole chatter back and forth about it, what with Tony Stark and his suit. People are saying that he’s going to take over the business of world peace and make SHIELD obsolete.”

“I am sure many people say many things about the situation and few of them truly understand the whole of it.” The opinion pieces on that had started nearly as soon as Tony Stark had made his announcement the previous fall. What would be the purpose of SHIELD, or NATO, or even the US Army itself if you had a battalion of Tony Starks in suits of armor around the world, there to protect it.

“You know,” she continued, shooting Julio a knowing look. “They said almost the exact same thing seventy years ago when Captain America came on the scene during World War II. A few battalions of super soldiers, they insisted, and we could end the war and send everyone home.”

“Fair,” Julio shrugged. “But then again, that was still dealing with a person, a human being willing to be injected with whatever they gave Captain America. Tony Stark built his suit all on his own.”

“I’m sure at an exorbitant cost,” Peggy surmised, guessing from what little she saw of the crushed and destroyed version Tony had worn on the rooftop of his El Segundo facility when they had gone to rescue him after his run in with Obadiah Stane. “Don't be fooled, the suits still have a human being inside of them. Everyone looks for such a quick fix to our situations. Create a super soldier to end a war more quickly, create an army of armored suits to bring world peace, no one realizes how fragile and complicated those things really are. Sometimes, it’s about putting aside our quick fixes and our egos and bring all our resources to bear to bring an end to threats and wars. It won’t necessarily fix the problem permanently, but in the face of utter annihilation or defeat it is the only way we have of surviving.”

She spoke like what she was, a child born from one world war, a veteran of another. Julio was none of those things and had no idea that she was. “You speak like you know something is coming.”

Peggy paused, circumspect for a long moment. “I work in global security, I always assume something is coming.”

She knew Julio would take that as he would. He merely nodded, holding out a container of popcorn towards her to grab a handful from. “If it’s something bad, something maybe that we should be aware of, I mean not just me and Nito, but you know, the mayor, could you let us know? I mean, you don’t have to like tell us secrets. It's just after what happened here before, with the towers, a bit of a heads up for resources would be nice.”

She knew of what he was speaking and nodded. “I’ll do what I can, but I don’t even know everything. It could be nothing. But I’ll try.”

From across the plaza, near one of the showcase buildings, a voice carried over the growing crowd. “Sharon! Peggy!”

The group of them stopped to turn towards the voice. Cassandra Kam waved frantically, pulling another figure along with her. Off duty from the office, she had her long, jet black hair pulled up into a pony tail, looking relaxed in her cotton dress and far younger than even Sharon, for all that she was of a comparable age and training. With her was a stranger, a young man whose picture Peggy had seen many times, but who in actuality she had yet to meet.

“Hey, glad we found you!” The other agent was all breathless smiles as she greeted them happily, offering a hand to both Juan and Julio. “Cassie Kam, I’m a SHIELD agent who works with Director Carter.”

“Another agent?” Juan fairly vibrated with the excitement of that idea. “So, you going to tell me your life is as boring as their lives, because these two don’t tell me anything.”

“What about Vasily, my Russian spy?” Sharon's mock hurt was belied by her laughter.

“Vasily?” Cassandra looked to Peggy in mild confusion.

“Don’t ask,” Peggy waved it away, instead focusing on the young man beside Cassandra. “I’m Peggy Carter. You must be David Rosenbaum.”

“I am,” he assured her with a small smile, taking her hand. He was a man of average height, though fit in that way all young professionals seemed to be in this day and age. He was less strikingly handsome as he was pleasant looking and earnest. “Cassie talks about you all the time.”

“I’m flattered! She’s a good agent.” Peggy didn’t make that compliment lightly. Cassandra had been one of the first agents she had met, a voice of reassurance and calm in those early, crazy days when Peggy had first arrived. It didn't take long to see that she was quick to analyze the particulars of a situation and that she could see the threads of contextual correlation in data quickly. Peggy befriended Cassandra as someone who could provide explanation to this mad world she found herself in and had come to value her insight so much she brought the younger woman onto the Avengers Initiative.

“She is at that.” Rosenbaum beamed, clearly besotted with her young co-worker. “I”m just glad someone else saw it too.”

“It isn’t hard to see,” Peggy assured him as Cassandra ingratiated herself with Juan and Julio, joking and kidding with Sharon. “So, you work in the office of the Federal District Attorney, correct?”

“Err, that’s right!” He flushed, running a hand over his closely trimmed, thinning blonde hair, apparently shocked Peggy knew that about him. “I’m still one of the junior members of the office, but you know, it’s a good career path. Perhaps not as exciting as Cassie’s, but I’m doing my part.”

“So you are.” Why he was apologetic about a career as a lawyer on behalf of the government, Peggy couldn’t say? Still, he seemed nice enough as Cassandra slipped her hand into his.

“So, now you can see my work friends are real,” she grinned, kissing him lightly before facing them all again. “We got about half-an-hour before the start of the opening ceremony. Maybe we should go in and find some seats?”

They meandered into the main hall of the Expo, a building refurbished for the event. The theater was already starting to become packed with crowds, most lining up around the stage, holding signs declaring their love for “Iron Man” and wearing clothing with pictures of Stark’s suit on the front. The rest of the hall appeared to be much more open air, the sides open between large pillars of light, while the roof was made of glass supported by steel beams. Peggy guessed during the day the glass tinted to provide shelter for those inside during the heat of day and at night allowed them to see outside. Already, the arena itself was filling fast, as a video package roll played on the large screens, proclaiming the wonders of the 2011 Stark Expo and the vision of the Expo’s purpose.

“Can you believe we are here for this,” Cassandra cried over the loud audio, finding a row of seats for them somewhere in the middle of the chaos.

“Can you believe this was ever done in the first place,” Julio retorted, having heard the long and drawn out drama of Stark’s efforts to get this expo off the ground from the perspective of the Mayor’s office.

“Hey, I’m just curious what Stark will have to say,” David offered as they all filed into their seats, settling themselves as others streamed in, searching for their own seats. “After all, he’s the biggest name in the world with that suit. Now he’s opening the first Stark Expo in nearly forty years. He can do no wrong with anyone right now.”

Peggy thought of Thaddeus Ross’s exasperation and knew that wasn’t true. “You’d be surprised who he’s managed to upset.”

Juan, who had settled beside her in their seating arrangement, merely leaned over and muttered. “I wouldn’t. I’ve heard the stories of him back in the day and a man who lives like that is going to have enemies.”

Peggy thought of Obadiah Stane and said nothing.

When the presentation shifted from the sparkling, hopeful futurism being touted by the head chairwoman of the Stark Expo's executive board to something involving a loud, obnoxious clatter of music that seemed to gig up the crowd, Peggy guessed the ceremony was about to start. She glanced at Sharon in mild horror at the noise, who only seemed amused by her aunt’s reaction.

“You have to get used to this kind of music,” her niece bawled over the thumping of drums and squalling of what she presumed was a guitar, as on the stage in front of them the massive light boards blazed with videos. All of this served as a backdrop to a troupe of scantily clad young female dancers, all bounding out of the sides of the stage in what looked like nothing more than red two-piece bathing suits with a glowing, round circle in the middle of their breasts.

“Oh, you think he’s going to be in his Iron Man suit,” Juan leaned over to ask, excited.

“Probably,” Peggy uttered, rolling her eyes as the girls began a dance routine in front of a digital, waving American flag. It all screamed the loud, over the top patriotism that Americans seemed to love and with which Peggy was more than familiar thanks to Steve. Frankly, this show wasn’t so very different than the USO tour Steve had been trapped in, especially when she considered the dancing girls in their high-heeled boots and skimpy outfits and all the images of American exceptionalism and triumphalism. Put in Steve’s ridiculous song and that hideous outfit he’d had to wear and she might not be able to tell the difference.

That had been during a war, when the US government, led by men like Senator Brandt, had wanted to drive up patriotism in the home front to help unite them all towards the common cause of defeating the Axis Powers and to keep American sentiment strong. This...Peggy wasn’t sure what this was, honestly. More than anything, it looked like Stark was using the same sort of symbols and appropriating them for himself - the dancing girls, the music, the flags and eagles all over the digital screens, to show himself as a hero and defender. Perhaps he was positioning himself as the heir to Captain America in that sense, a new superhero for a new century. If that was the case...Peggy was going to have a much harder job than she thought.

“Where is Stark?” Juan scanned the area, looking up and down the stage. “You’d have thought he’d have come in by now.”

Overhead, fireworks began to fire off. In unison, everyone began to look to the skies over the glass covered roof, oohing and aahing as bright blossoms of color sailed into the skies. Red and gold sparkles showered over where they sat, protected by the ceiling. Out of one particularly bright burst, a singular, falling spark descended, screaming towards the pavilion. As it drew closer, the excitement in the room became palatable, as it occurred to Peggy seconds before her compatriots just who and what it was.

The clashing music reached its crescendo as through an opening above the stage the falling star soared in, landing with pinpoint precision onto the rounded thrust that pushed out of the stage, ringing through the area with a hard clang, even above the screaming, driving music. The red and gold figure of Iron Man, crouched in some sort of tripod of a stance, sent the gathered crowd into a frenzy at the image. Even Juan beside her began to cheer loudly as the figure stood up and the floor began to open up around him, machines coming up to begin to remove the complicated and intricate suit from off the body of Tony Stark. The minutes his helmet was free, he shook his head as if in surprise to find the large throng of screaming and adoring people ringing the stage around him.

“Someone’s eating this up,” Sharon noted from the other side of Peggy, rolling her eyes. “And you get to somehow managed that?”

“You are surprised by this?” Peggy could only give the same eye roll at the ridiculousness of the entire scene - Stark stepping out of his armor in a full, pinstripe tuxedo, soaking in the adulation with a cool, almost cocky demeanor as dancing girls pranced and preened around him. Perhaps Cassandra’s boyfriend had a point, right now Tony Stark could do no wrong in the eyes of some, especially given the adulation of the crowd that surrounded them at the moment. The music continued to clash and bang, and with every triumphant crash towards what Peggy assumed was an ending, Stark posed for his fans, all of whom seemed ecstatic to see him. It finally concluded with an explosion of pyrotechnics as the words “Stark Expo” flashed onto the screen behind them.

“Tony! Tony! Tony!” The chants of his first name rang through the space, even from Juan, as Peggy could only stare in stunned surprise at the reaction from the gathered people towards Stark and his antics. He waved and smiled as the dancing girls filed off, jauntily. 

“It’s good to be back,” he greeted the cheering crowds as he took it all in, as calm as if he were giving a presentation in front of a small group of intimate friends. Honestly, if there was one gift that all the Starks seemingly had seemed to inherit it was the art of showmanship. None of them ever seemed phased by a crowd, and Tony clearly was a natural at this. He grinned lazily at the throng.

“Did you miss me,” he asked, cheekily. Someone in the crowd yelled something indiscernible from where Peggy and her group sat, surrounded by screaming voices.

“Blow something up?” He looked somewhere to his right in the direction of the crowd, likely where the voice called. “I already did that.”

The crowd laughed at his quip as they all began to settle. Stark waited just long enough for the to quiet down before speaking in a conversational tone. “I’m not saying the world is enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace because of me!”

A cheer went up from the crowd again as Peggy heard Sharon say something to the effect of “Yeah, only for the last six months. Such a long period.”

“I’m not saying that from the ashes of captivity, never has a greater phoenix metaphor be personified in human history!”

Ahh, there was the familiar hubris Peggy knew so well. Stark opened his arms out wide to the crowd, who ate it up with aplomb.

“I’m not saying that Uncle Sam can kick back on a lawn chair, sipping on an iced tea, because I haven’t met anyone who is man enough to go toe-to-toe with me on my best day!”

That comment earned an outright snort from Peggy as everyone cheered again, even Juan. They chanted his name in adoration as he briefly waved them off, pacing the stage as if taken by a sudden fit of humbleness. “Please, it’s not about me. It’s not about you. It’s not even really about us. It’s about legacy. It’s about what we choose to leave behind for future generations, and that’s why for the next year, and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women from nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources, share their collected vision, to leave behind a brighter future.”

A roar went up from the collected crowd again as Stark shook his head. “It’s not about us! Therefore, what I'm saying, if I’m saying anything, is welcome back to the Stark Expo!”

Shouts of approval rang again as Stark held his hands wide, soaking in the cheers, standing in the spotlight of the moment. Whatever his pride and boasts on the stage, in that one moment he reminded Peggy so much of Howard it almost hurt. It was the first time she had seen his son outside of the insanity of the press conference the previous fall, which itself had only been the second interaction she had with him. She knew so little about who he was, who he really was when the cameras weren’t turned on him. Yet, when those cameras were there, he was every bit his father and more. 

Howard had always had a bit of the huckster around him, the practiced smoothness of a man who had grown up on the Lower East Side in the 1920s, eking out an existence until his intellect and genius got noticed enough that his teachers and others to took him seriously. Tony had not had to grow up in that sort of existence. He spoke with the swagger of a man who knew his place in the world, and for all of his hubris - and there was plenty there to be seen - he clearly believed in his own hype. No wonder the crowd seemed to lap up everything he was selling them, he believed it as much as they did, and it was an intoxicating mix.

Stark tucked his hands behind his back, drawing the crowd’s attention to him once again. “And now, making a special guest appearance from the Great Beyond to tell you what it’s all about, please welcome my father, Howard.”

A swell of strings began as the video board divided into smaller windows and the Stark Industries logo appeared, ghost like, before fading to an older version of the logo, and finally to a film of an office somewhere, many decades ago, and the friend she hadn’t seen in over a year - or 60 years, depending on how one figured it. He leaned against a heavy desk with the backdrop of the New York City skyline, smiling easily into a camera.

“Anything is achievable through technology,” Howard assured the invisible audience as they cheered. Stark had already exited the stage, but to where Peggy didn’t know. She was currently transfixed on Howard alive, however briefly, on the screen before her, chatting with that familiar, if much more subdued, affability and charm that he always had. “Better living, robust health, and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace.”

The filmed Howard strolled across a large office Peggy was guessing it was located somewhere in Stark Tower, long ago. He was clearly older than the man she had known, cooler, not as cocky or as grandstanding as the Howard Stark who she had left that long ago New Year's Eve, singing and flirting with beautiful women at his own party. He had visibly aged, his hair line receding, his face more careworn, his smile almost non-existent. But the charisma was still there, now mellowed to the demeanor of a kindly, elder statesmen, a benevolent uncle filled with the ideas and wonder of a futuristic world and all of its possibilities, and less the fire-brand Peggy had first known. Behind him, framed posters for previous expos lined the paneled walls, as spread out beneath the display was a model layout of what Peggy guessed was the Expo itself, a futuristic looking city of buildings, pools and trees. 

“So, from all of us here at Stark Industries, I would personally like to introduce you to the City of the Future.”

The camera panned on the model, it’s clean, open spaces and buildings, sweeping across it as Howard continued to pontificate from the corner of his desk. “Technology holds infinite possibilities for mankind, and will one day rid society of all of its ills. Soon, technology will affect the way you live your life everyday. No more tedious work, leaving more time for leisure activities and enjoying the sweet life.”

“Or so he thinks,” Juan snorted, quietly, holding up his own personal phone.

“The Stark Expo,” Howard called, looking directly at the camera, as if there to address the crowd himself. “Welcome!”

A colorful logo for the previous expo from 1974 spun onto the screen as the crowd let loose again. Peggy found her chest aching from a held breath, finally letting it loose in a slow stream as she noticed that she had wrapped the fingers of her right hand tightly around Sharon’s own. She hadn’t noticed her niece reach out a comforting gesture to her in the middle of Howard's greeting, but it was there, firm, real and comforting.

“You okay?” Concern was clear in Sharon's dark eyes.

“Yeah,” Peggy replied, shortly. Honesty, she was feeling far from it. She hadn’t expected the image of the elder Howard to appear in this, or for it to hit her the way it did. The ghosts of her past flickering to life before her whether she liked it or not.

“It's so interesting,” Juan began, oblivious to Peggy or her own crises at the moment. “Tony is really different than his Dad was. Seriously, Howard Stark is like a more nerdy version of Walt Disney, you know, in all those old bits he did for television?”

Peggy chuckled, ruefully, having heard the comparisons between Howard and the animation studio owner even back in the 1940s, especially after Howard went to Hollywood and befriended the latter. “Don’t be fooled, Howard as a young man was every bit as much as a self-aggrandizing showman as his son is.”

Juan shrugged, unaware of Howard Stark and his past. “Tony just strikes me as being one of those poor-little-rich-boys, you know, the kind who inherit a trust fund, go wild and crazy for years, and then decide they want to make up for all of that by saving the world, but can’t stop their old, crazy life cold turkey.”

Peggy found Juan’s assessment a bit too cynical, but in fairness he likely wasn’t terribly far off. She had a feeling that Tony’s history was littered with poor life decisions. “He was captured by terrorists last year. From what I understand that had a profound effect on him and he’s been trying to change for the better.”

“Mmm,” Juan shrugged. “I don’t know, Papí has definite opinions on the subject.

Julio, who had only been half listening as he paid attention to the different video-taped presenters doing brief descriptions of their work on the screen. He turned to them questioningly, but loud music started again, drowning out all talking at any normal volume. Frustrated, Peggy leaned over to Sharon to bawl into her ear. “Let’s go and wander for a bit!”

Sharon nodded, leaning over to Cassandra and David to her right, while Peggy communicated to Juan and Julio the same. In mutual agreement, they all got up and scooted out of the narrow seating to head back outside of the arena and the cool air and quieter ambiance to be found outside. Her ears ringing, Peggy turned to the others, who all looked just as relieved to be out of there.

“My God, does Stark have to crank AC/DC wherever he goes,” Cassandra complained, rubbing an ear with the heel of her hand. “I mean, I like them, but not full volume in my skull.”

“Got to admit, it was a hell of an entrance,” David beamed, clearly impressed. “I mean, Iron Man! That’s even more amazing in person.”

The others began to banter on the various merits of the Iron Man suit, Tony Stark’s entrance and his presentation, and whether the showgirls were really necessary. Juan had some opinions on their costumes, very few of them good. Peggy found herself dragging behind the group and their animated conversation, having not much to add to it.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Peggy glanced towards Julio who had once again slipped behind to walk beside her as Juan, Sharon and Cassie led a spirited debate ahead. She smiled, touched that the quieter half of the couple had noticed enough to check on her. “Oh, nothing, just...overthinking things, I believe.”

“Isn’t that what we all do?”

Peggy laughed in agreement. “True, I suppose. I was trained to read between the lines, to observe and study what is both said and unsaid. I suppose I can’t help it most of the time, I get caught up in it.”

“And you think Stark was saying something you couldn’t understand?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Juan was saying something about you having opinions on Stark.”

Julio snorted, a dark eyebrow arching at the back of his partner’s head. “Juan say too much at times.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“No,” Julio admitted, cutting his eyes sideways to Peggy. “I mean, it’s nothing that many a senator or congressman in DC hasn’t said already on television.”

“You don’t think Stark should have his suit.”

“It’s a weapon of mass destruction and we are leaving it in the hands of a civilian.”

“And yet, it’s still his property. If the government seized it, he could mount a pretty effective defense and he has the lawyers to do it.”

“Sure, but I’d rather that fight than wait for him to pop off with it and become a vigilante.” Julio spoke like a politician, or at least a man who spent much of his workings days round politicians. The idea of Tony Stark having something that powerful made most of them nervous for obvious reasons, and Peggy couldn’t fault them, they were legitimate reasons to have. The problem was that addressing both the government's need to ensure some sort of control over the suit and how Stark used it had to also be balanced against his rights owning it. Even if they were to take it, he could just make another, and honestly she could see him hiring a bevvy of lawyers first and making this a media circus centered on his civil rights.

“Frankly,” Julio continued, thoughtfully, as they strolled along. “It’s the fact that Tony Stark has it and is wearing it that worries me the most. I mean, not that anyone else wouldn’t have the potential of misusing it, but Stark has a reputation that goes with him. I don’t know if you’ve heard of any of it.”

“Some,” Peggy replied, having been regaled with the more lurid tales by Cassandra in their investigation the year before. “Enough to know he was no saint before his abduction.”

“Saint? I don’t think he knows how to spell that. Frankly, the man had a problem, a very real problem, and I’m not so convinced he’s over it either. Drugs, drinking...mostly the drinking. He was well known for getting shitfaced and causing havoc. He tore through Midtown once in a buddy’s Ferrari, nearly hitting three pedestrians before jumping a curb and slamming a $500,000 car right into a store front. Thank God it was after midnight and he didn’t do more serious damage.”

Peggy didn’t know the model of car, personally, but she got the picture of what it was and what that meant. She blanched, slightly, eyes wide on Julio’s profile. “Was he arrested for that?”

“Oh, sure, brought to the station and everything, where he tested positive for a DUI. But rather than be thrown in a drunk tank, the officers let him sit in a private office where they all swarmed around him wanting autographs, before calling up his assistant to come get him and let him sober up at home. He paid a big fine, covered the cost of the repairs to the business, and bought his friend a new model of the car he wrecked. Then a week after his court hearing, he was seen in Dubai at a party, so drunk that he he vomited in the sheikh’s fountain...and then tried to take a swim in it.”

Peggy wrinkled her nose in mild disgust at the visual on that. She had know, of course, that Tony had enjoyed a high flying lifestyle much as his father had. What that meant and how far he carried it was still news to her. “You’re saying he’s an alcoholic?”

“I’m saying he’s a man who can’t do anything by halves,” Julio amended, looking thoughtful as he chose his words. “Look, I don’t know the man, none of us can say we do. I’m not going to sit here and say growing up with the great Howard Stark was always a picnic, but he’s definitely that rich kid who looks like he’s making up for something by doing everything - either numbing something, or hiding from something, or ignoring something. Whenever he throws himself into anything, he does it all the way or nothing, damn the consequences. Like this Stark Expo, no one asked for it, but he got a crazy idea to recreate something his father did to liken himself to his old man. He was so fixated on the fact he could do it, he never stopped to ask if he should do it.”

That wasn’t the first time Peggy had heard that about Tony Stark. She had said it herself about both him and his father and their single-minded focus, a tendency they both had. But she could see how that habit of his, combined with a penchant for extreme behavior - whether it was in substance abuse, extreme experiences, or insane parties - could all lead to a great deal of nervousness about a man like Tony Stark having the suit. Could a man like that be responsible with it? Could a man like that ever be a true superhero?

“Hey, you guys want to go to the midway?” Cassie called back to them, so excited by the idea that she swung her and David’s joined hands together back and forth between them.

“Is this an attempt to get me on a scary ride?” Julio eyed Juan and Sharon suspiciously. It was telling that they both cringed and giggled between each other.

Peggy cocked a curious eyebrow up at him. "You don't like rollercoasters?"

“Not a fan of them, no.” He looked queasy at the very idea. “My brother and sister took me to Coney Island as a kid and got me on the Cyclone the first moment I was tall enough to ride it. I screamed and cried the whole way and hated them for it ever since.”

Peggy couldn’t help but laugh out loud at poor Julio’s confession. She sobered at his hurt expression, patting him on one muscular shoulder. “I had...have a friend who rode it when he was a child too. His best friend conned him on it, and from what I understand, it didn’t go well for either him or his lunch.”

“On, no,” Julio cried in empathy, chuckling. “I suppose I got off lucky. Those two were smart enough not to feed me beforehand, else I might have. Seriously, siblings can be assholes.”

Peggy didn’t disagree, frankly, eyeing Sharon and thinking of Michael. She supposed, had he been presented with the opportunity, he would have taken the chance to terrorize her on a ride as well.

“Well, if you are feeling brave, I will sit beside you on one of those rides and hold your hand. You can prove to Juan you aren’t a coward.”

That seemed to intrigue Julio. “Maybe...if it’s not a roller coaster with a big drop.

“That’s the spirit,” Peggy encouraged, nudging him along. “Come one, let’s see what insane things Stark has created for people to ride.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy and Cassandra watch a show.

Peggy didn’t have long to consider her course of action with Tony Stark. He really only gave her until the following day.

“Turn on CSPAN,” Cassandra ordered, rushing into her office and looking for the remote to the large television in the corner.

“Turn on what,” Peggy wondered as Cassandra navigated the screen that allowed one to find a particular channel. One of the boxes, titled CSPAN 2, lit up as she pressed a button and the coverage shifted from a local channel to what looked like a hearing room somewhere in Washington DC.

“What is this,” she queeried as Cassandra sat down in one of the chairs in front of Peggy’s desk.

“Senate hearings regarding Tony Stark and his suit,” Cassandra replied with breathless interest. “He was called to appear before them this morning. This should be interesting.”

“Hmmm, considering his father’s own Senate hearings in 1946, I imagine he is going to end up insulting a Senator and playing to the reporters in the room for the rest of it.”

“Oh, probably, but it still should be a show.” The other woman frowned, thoughtfully. “I should have brought some popcorn for this.”

“Oh, please,” Peggy snorted, continuing to read through a briefing on Thaddeus Ross and the Biotech Enhancement Project, the fancy name the US Army used to try and hide the fact they were rebuilding the super soldier program. Ross had managed to slide the program in for approval with the Department of Defense only two days after the horrific events of September 11, 2001, basically championing it as a weapon that could be employed in the war they all knew was going to come. It was a lowdown ploy, one that played upon the sentiment of a frightened nation and a military that had taken a crushing blow. Peggy doubted anyone really had studied what the program was about, and it certainly hadn’t come under any sort of Congressional or national security review. 

That fact was made abundantly clear when photos were obtained showing that Ross had been using captured terrorists to experiment on, employing an untested and untried form of the serum. The results had been...horrific. Peggy had no idea where they got the form of the serum they were using, but whatever it was, it had sent the subjects into a hormone induced frenzy, one from which they hadn’t recovered. In truth, the results had reminded her more of Midnight Oil and the horrors of the movie theater more than anything. It had pushed their adrenaline to superhuman levels. What happened next had been a nightmare. Much as they had after the Battle of Fenow, the Army had quietly shut down and covered up the situation, until a reporter got their hands on it and it all came to light. It was only then that Congress was made aware. They shut down the program temporarily, at least till Ross assured them that he had restructured and recruited outside scientists into the project, hoping to use their insight in fixing the formula. That was where Bruce Banner came into all of this.

“Has Agent Burk found anything interesting on Ross and his movements yet?”

Torn from the television, Cassandra paused, rolling through information in her head. “Ross is reaching out to someone named Blonsky, British special forces, who they have loaned out to him for a special mission.”

“British special forces?” That caught Peggy’s attention, no less because she too had once been British special forces lent out to the SSR for Project: Rebirth. “What do they want him for?”

“Unclear, except that he’s one of the most formidable soldiers in the Royal Army and comes highly decorated. Basically, the dude is a real life action movie hero.”

Peggy considered, frowning. “What is he decorated for?”

“Mostly his fighting ability. He doesn’t have the most kills for any operative in the world, that goes to a CIA agent and you know how they don’t like sharing data, but this Blonsky is considered to be one of the best.”

“Killing shouldn’t be a record anyone has, even a soldier,” Peggy muttered, darkly. She’d never liked that aspect of the military, the idea that if you managed to kill your enemies this somehow made you better in some way. It wasn’t something she had espoused to, for all that she’d had to use force more than a few times. “I’ll need any data you can find on this Blonsky when you get to it.”

“That I can do.” Cassandra made a note of it. “And I will try to get a beat on what Ross is up to that he needs a special forces soldier for.”

“I can guess.” Peggy made a moue of disapproval. “I think he has a beat on Bruce Banner and wants to try and capture him.”

“And he hopes a fighter like Blonsky could take on whatever it is Banner becomes?”

“Which is idiotic, as even the best trained, most highly capable soldiers without the serum couldn’t go toe-to-toe against Stever Rogers. How do they expect him to go against a creature like what Banner turns into?”

“If Ross were smart, he’d have not made this mess in the first place, but he’s a moron, which means he keeps making it worse.” Cassandra was about as impressed with Ross as Peggy was and much more openly dismissive. “I do have a bit of gossip. Do you know that Bruce Banner was engaged to Ross’ daughter?”

Peggy hadn’t known that. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s not in the official file, but it didn’t take much to put two-and-two together when I was digging through the project research and the team on it. So Ross somehow finagled his daughter into heading up the research for him. I’m guessing it was more because he thought he could trust his daughter with this than it being a true kickback. She was the one who brought Banner on board.”

“Do you think Ross pushed Banner to do something stupid deliberately?”

“No, but I can’t imagine he helped,” Cassandra shrugged. “I mean, I’ve met David’s mother and that was scary enough to make me want to vomit, I can imagine what it’s like having to put up with your fiancé's father as your boss.”

Peggy had only been engaged once, but remembered all too well her nerves around Fred's family after they announced it. “David is nice enough, I can’t imagine his mother being so bad,” Peggy teased, earning a snort from her compatriot.

“She took one look at me, smiled, and then said she’d never known David to like Asian girls before.”

Peggy was less shocked at the sentiment as she was that the woman had said it in front of Cassandra. “To your face?”

“Oh, right over the dinner table!”

“What did you do?”

“I think I said something to the effect that David and I bonded over a shared love of pork dumplings, something I thought was a clever comeback as it was Passover dinner. In hindsight, it sounded dumb and I don't know if they even keep kosher. David loves bacon on everything. Yeah, we’ve not been back, not even for holidays.”

She had Peggy’s sympathies. “Well, look at it this way, she didn’t turn you into a raging, green monster.”

“Fair, but I sort of wish I could have in that moment.”

Peggy didn’t blame her, frankly. “Well, it is a good thing David himself is better than that.”

“He is pretty dreamy, right?”

Peggy had known from the get-go with the agent she worked with that she was in a long term relationship with a young man whom she met while in college. It was a dynamic that had been strange at first, but when she had gathered that the modern world didn’t seem to have an issue with young people living together, unmarried, she’d found it all very sweet. They were a young couple, each finding their ways in their respective careers, clearly devoted to each other, and as far as Cassandra was concerned, ridiculously happy. It was something that Peggy supported and perhaps somewhat quietly envied. Alone in her apartment provided for her by SHIELD, she wiled away her time in this new world she found herself in, hoping against hope that the man she wanted to spend her life with would be found underneath the Arctic ice soon. In fairness, at least she knew he would be found there, alive, and that he would be coming back, unlike Thaddeus Ross’ daughter. Peggy wondered if she even knew where Bruce Banner was.

“Oh, hey, they are coming back out of recess!” Cassandra turned up the volume, as on the screen the information for the Senate Armed Services Committee popped up. An array of men, led by a Senator Stern from New York, all sat in the committee chamber, while in the gallery a group of interested attendees, including, Peggy noted, Pepper Potts all sat behind the witness tables. On one side sat a bevy of what Peggy could guess were expert witnesses, while on the other sat Tony Stark, looking supremely unconcerned and apparently pestering his assistant where she sat in the gallery. All around them was a host of reporters and other members of the press, taking pictures and filming the proceedings, clearly gleefully eager to catch whatever crazy thing that would pop out of Tony Stark’s mouth this time.

The committee chair, Stern, picked up his gavel, banging for order as the crowd murmured around them, calling the committee into order. “If we can settle ourselves back down after our recess.”

The crowd of attendees and reporters began to settle into seats once again, the hum of the room quietting. Still, Stark remained turned in his seat, oblivious to the call to order, or at least ignoring it judging from Potts’ disapproving frown and twirling hand gestures. Much like a small child ignoring their mother’s direction, Stark seemed to pretend to be oblivious, which clearly did nothing for him with the committee, especially the clearly disapproving Stern.

“We will pick up now where we left off,” Stern announced, banging his gavel, clearly trying to gain Stark’s attention. “Mr. Stark, please!”

Stark lazily spun to the microphone, his smirk laconic. “Yes, dear,” he fired off, earning a murmur of laughter from the crowd and a frown of disapproval from the senators, including Stern.

“Can I have your attention,” Stern asked, managing politeness at least for the moment under the typical Stark brand of dismissive high-handedness towards those in power.

“Absolutely,” Stark assured, focused finally on the proceedings before him.

“Do you, or do you not, possess a specialized weapon?” Stern got straight to the point, making Peggy wonder what the earlier part of their proceedings had discussed.

“I do not,” Stark answered, just as pointedly. 

“You do not,” Stern repeated in that drawl that said he felt Stark was full of crap.

“I do not...well, it depends on how you define the word ‘weapon.’” He shrugged, turning to glance at the reporters along the far wall of the gallery, clearly playing to his audience and not even bothering to hide it.

“The ‘Iron Man’,” Stern offered up, mildly, playing up for the cameras as much as Stark was, assuming an air of rational benevolence against Stark’s more anarchist laconicism.

“My device does not fit that description,” Stark replied, evenly, only to be met with Stern’s practiced, polite confusion.

“How would you define it, then?”

“I would describe it as defining it as what it is.”

“As,” Stern pressed.

“It’s a high tech prosthesis.”

That he said it with a straight face amazed even Peggy, and clearly engendered laughter around him in the gallery, though Stark wasn’t laughing. “That is actually the most apt description I could make of it.”

“Is he kidding,” Cassandra exclaimed, looking to Peggy.

“He’s not joking about it, so he perhaps takes it seriously.” Peggy didn’t want to get into the psychology of what that statement ment with him. “I imagine he feels like it is a prosthetic extension of himself.”

“I suppose it’s fair. How else do you really describe a weaponized suit of armor?”

“It’s a weapon, Mr. Stark,” Stern dismissed, only to be cut off by Stark in irritation.

“Please, if your priority was actually well-being of America…”

“My priority is to get the Iron Man weapon turned over to the people of the United States of America.”

“Well, you can forget it! I am Iron Man, the suit and I are one. To turn over the Iron Man suit would be to turn over myself, which is tantamount to indentured servitude or prostitution, depending on which state you are in.”

A guffaw of laughter rang up in the gallery as Stern’s expression turned sour.

“Can’t have it,” reiterated Stark, unflinching as the cameras clicked all around him.

“Look, I know, I’m no expert,” Stern began.

“In prostitution? Of course not, you’re a senator, come on!” Stark thumped the table, turning towards the chuckles sounding behind him with a wry grin, holding up an arm as if he were still playing to the crowds at the Stark Expo the night before. Stern was less than amused with his quip, and from all appearances neither was Pepper Potts, who eyed her employer with disapproval.

“I’m no expert on weapons.” Stern continued, outwardly unruffled by Stark’s crack. “We do have someone here who is an expert on weapons. I would now like to call Justin Hammer.”

The cameras all turned to a different man, dressed becomingly in a gray, three-piece suit, smiling as he came to the front with a hint of a swagger of his own. The name was certainly familiar to Peggy. “Hammer? You mentioned him before.”

“Yeah, as a suspect for trying to get Tony Stark kidnapped and killed. He owns a weapons manufacturing company of his own, based in Queens actually. He’s basically a cut-rate Tony Stark. He has always been stuck in his shadow and is wanting to finally get out of it. When Stark gave up most of his weapons contracts last year, Hammer jumped in, eager to fill the void. Because he’s in Queens, and Stern is the chair of the Armed Services committee, he was able to make a pretty sweet deal with the military.”

“Is his stuff any good?”

Cassandra shrugged, smirking. “As the senator said, I’m no weapon’s expert, but I know SHIELD would never buy any of his stuff.”

That told Peggy most of what she wanted right there.

Stark watched Hammer settle in briefly before leaning into his microphone once again. “Let the record reflect that I observed Mr. Hammer enter the chamber and I am wondering if and when any actual expert will also be in attendance.”

Hammer was unphased as he poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the opposite table, even as snickers sounded behind him. Even Cassandra was amused. “Is it just me, or is Hammer deliberately dressing similar to Stark?”

Peggy had noticed, but gave the other man the benefit of the doubt. After all, there wasn’t precisely a huge amount of variety in serious, professional fashion for men. “Clearly, Stark has an issue with Hammer.”

“I would too if I had someone trying to dog and copy my every step.”

Stern tapped his gavel again, bringing order as Hammer chuckled dryly into his microphone, seemingly amused by Stark’s clear dismissal of him. “Absolutely, I’m no expert,” he drawled, good-natured and charming. “I defer to you, Anthony, the wonder boy!”

Only the barest flicker of a blink from Stark hinted on how much he didn’t appreciate being called “Anthony.” Peggy took silent note of that.

“Senator, if I may,” Hammer continued, rising to round the table to stand by a television monitor rolled into the proceedings, the seal of the US Senate up against a blue background. “I may not be an expert, but you know who was the expert?”

He looked straight at Stark before answering his own rhetorical question. “Your dad, Howard Stark! He was really a father to us all, to the military industrial age.”

Peggy couldn’t help the snort of disbelief at that statement and the presumption of it. Neither could Stark, who looked less than pleased at Hammer’s claims, which was perhaps the point of this exercise. Peggy found it laughable these officers and politicians would so revere a man now who had, decades ago, sat in this very chamber facing charges of treason because he had an affair with a dancer who stole all of his highly dangerous and top-secret weapons from his vault, a vault he had created because he couldn’t trust the military with his own inventions, either. History had a strange and ironic way of coming full circle.

Hammer continued, grabbing his microphone off the table, standing to lean against the edge of it, casually, mimicking Stark’s own habit with people. “Let’s be clear, he was no flower child, he was a lion. We all know why we’re here. In the last six months, Anthony Stark has created a sword with untold possibilities. Yet, he insists it’s a shield. He asks us to trust him as we cower behind it.”

Hammer’s dismissiveness in his shield metaphor quickly irked Peggy. She could sense Cassandra’s pointed glance at her from across the desk, but chose to see where Hammer would go with this ridiculousness.

“I wish I were comforted, Anthony, I really do.” Hammer addressed Stark, slumping in his large leather chair, fingers steepled and not particularly amused by Hammer and his antics. “I like to leave my door unlocked when I leave the house, but this ain’t Canada.”

“What,” Cassandra muttered in confusion. “This ain’t Canada? Has he been to Canada? What does that mean?”

Hammer continued. “You know, we live in a world of great threats, threats that Mr. Stark will not always be able to foresee.”

He had a point there, Peggy acknowledged silently and begrudgingly. That was the point of bringing Stark on board with SHIELD. Unfortunately, Fury had approached it as if Stark was a soldier, another agent to bring into the fold, which only had served to distance and irk Stark. Now they were scrambling to bring him into some fold before the US government tore him down for what he was.

Hammer seemed to be closing out his opening remarks, wandering back to his table, the microphone in hand. “Thank you! God bless Iron Man! God bless America!”

“What?” Cassandra guffawed at Hammer and the smattering of applause he got, including from Senator Stern. “What does he think this is, a campaign rally?”

“There has always been in America a core segment of the country that have always equated Christian values of morality to patriotism and American identity, I suppose, and he’s playing into that.” Not that Peggy could say much. Britain had been much the same way, lest she forget the occasional appearances at services in their local parish, all highly insisted upon by her mother in order to “keep up appearances” for their father. Even Steve hadn’t been immune to it. Part of his whole Army proscribed public facade had emphasized the fact that he’d been an altar boy in his local parish in Brooklyn, a fact that caused Barnes no end of amusement, as apparently the only reason Steve had been an altar boy was because Barnes’ had been forced to do it, and had consequently conned Steve into it along with him.

“That is well said, Mr. Hammer.” Stern clearly was pleased Hammer underscored his own main point. “The committee would now like to invite Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes to the chamber.”

Stark looked genuinely surprised at this announcement. “Rhodey? What?”

He turned towards the doors of the chamber as the cameras all began to zoom in, clicking as the doors opened to Rhodes strolling through the gallery, straight backed, ignoring the hullabaloo around him. Unsurprisingly, Stark rose to greet his oldest friend, looking cool, but Peggy could imagine he was somewhat uncertain about what this new gambit was being pulled on him.

“Does Rhodes look different to you?” Cassandra frowned at the exchange between Stark and Rhodes. As neither had open microphones on them in the moment, nothing could be heard, but Rhodes was apparently not in the mood to deal with whatever Stark was pushing.

Peggy studied the Air Force’s liaison with Stark Industries. “Perhaps a bit, but he does work with Tony Stark. I imagine being put in the middle of this is stressful enough.”

“I suppose,” Cassandra conceded as both Rhodes and Stark settled behind their tables.

“I have before me a complete report on the Iron Man weapon compiled by Colonel Rhodes. Colonel, for the record can you please read page 57?”

Rhodes gave Stern a hint of a dubious look. “Are you requesting I read specific selections from my report, sir?”

“Yes, sir,” Stern affirmed, far too pleased with himself for those selections to be anything other than damning to Stark. 

From the way Rhodes glanced sideways at his friend, Peggy could guess that Rhodes felt they were too. “It was my understanding I would be testifying in a much more comprehensive and detailed manner.”

“I understand,” Stern overcut him. “A lot of things have changed today. Could you please read?”

Even Peggy could see the railroad being built here. Rhodes could too, and despite being ever polite, he wasn’t afraid to say it. “You understand that reading a single paragraph out of context doesn’t reflect the summary of my findings.”

“Just read it Colonel, I do. Thank you.”

Realizing he didn’t have much of a choice, Rhodes resignedly began to read. “As he does not operate within any definable branch of the government, Iron Man presents a potential threat to the security of the nation and to her interest. I did, however, go on to summarize that the benefits of Iron Man far outweigh the liabilities...”

Even before he finished speaking, Stern was overriding him. “All right, that’s enough.”

“...and that it would be in our interest to fold Mr. Stark into the existing chain of command..”

“That’s enough, Colonel, that’s enough,” Stern snapped.

Stark leaned forward to his microphone, eager to drop his opinion. “I’m not a joiner, but I would consider Secretary of Defense, if you ask nice. We can amend the hours a little bit.”

The sheer cheek of it earned more laughter, even from Peggy. Cassandra looked vaguely scandalized. Stern was less than amused, as were Potts and Hammer.

“I would like to go on and show the imagery that is connected to your report,” Stern continued, trying to regain the reigns of the hearing.

“I believe it is somewhat premature to reveal the images to the public at this time,” Rhodes protested. He was of course overridden by Stern.

“Colonel, I understand, and if you could just narrate those for us we would be very grateful.”

Stern clearly did understand and didn’t care. He had an agenda and was out for blood. Rhodes looked less than thrilled to be sharing the images out of context of his report, which from the sounds of it had yet to be fully vetted by the committee itself.

“Why is it that politicians are always idiots about matters of national security,” Peggy mused as Rhodes waved to whoever was managing the images on the screen.

“Because heaven forbid they look like they aren’t doing something about national security! It might mean votes in their district.” Cassandra snorted, nodding to Stern in particular. “He is a notorious hawk and loves to clutch his pearls and carry on about the specter of threats out there. My guess is he wants that suit as an excuse to go rain US military might on some unsuspecting country he presumes houses terrorists.”

“Is this what American foreign interests have come to?” Peggy felt mildly appalled.

“At least for the last few years, yeah. And honestly, there are many in New York who agree. After everything that happened here...yeah, there is a chip on many people’s shoulders.”

It still left Peggy disquieted as she turned her attention back to the television, where on the screen in the committee chambers a series of satellite images began to appear. Rhodes began to narrate the information that explained what they saw on the screen. “Intelligence suggests that the devices seen in this photos are in fact attempts at making manned copies of Mr. Stark’s suit. This has been corroborated by our allies and local intelligence on the ground indicating that these suits are quite possibly at the moment operational.”

The moment he began speaking, Stark had perked up and pulled a device out of his pocket. He thumbed it as Rhodes spoke, leaning over with it as Rhodes paused. “Hold on one second, buddy. Let me see.”

Stark eyed the television screen through whatever the device was and pressed something on the device’s surface. Like magic on the television screen, a new window opened, as the crowd began to murmur. 

“Oh, boy, I’m good!” Stark was clearly pleased with himself as new images came up on the screens. “I commandeered your screens. I need them.”

He continued to tap on the device as more images popped up on other screens in the chamber. “Time for a little transparency. Now we will see what is really going on.” he called as other data came up live before the startled eyes of the committee and the quiet confusion of the gallery.

“Holy shit,” Cassandra breathed, chuckling as the camera focused on the screen that said “Welcome, Mr. Stark.”

“What is he doing,” Peggy asked, still new to the wonders of technology and just how someone as brilliant as Tony Stark could manipulate it.

“He’s hacked into the computer they are using to run the monitors and image slides, I’m guessing, and connected it to his own private satellite network, the one that Burk found last year.”

“How is he doing that?”

“Through his phone, I think.” She pointed to the device in his hand. “I’ve not seen one like that. That has to be a home-built job.”

“And he’s just...doing that?”

Clearly, that was the question Stern had too. “What is he doing?”

Now that Stark had the floor again, he took it with aplomb. “If you would direct your attention to said screens, I believe that’s North Korea.”

On the screen, the image from the satellite gave way to black and white film of a behemoth of a machine, trying to walk out from some sort of shed, tripping on unwieldy feet and falling to the ground. The weapon that was attached to its right hard discharging in the direction of the camera. Sparks flew as bullets whizzed and someone cried out in pain. The gallery erupted as people stood, either in outrage or morbid curiosity, eager to get a better view. Cassandra audibly gasped at the sight, made worse as the camera fell, the sound of whoever had been holding it clear as the glass of the lens cracked from something impacting it, dark blood spattering across it.

“Turn that off! Take it off!” Stern was practically shouting as chaos threatened to break. Already, many of his compatriots looked visibly disturbed by the sight. Justin Hammer looked all too eager to to comply with the senator’s demands, leaping up to turn the television off.

Stark was unbothered, moving on to his next example, tapping his device. “Iran,” he intoned, as on the screen a new black and white film came up, right in Hammer’s face as he attempted to turn it off. In this one, a flying suit took off wildly in the air , then immediately nose dived into the ground, exploding violently, eliciting a loud cry from someone in the gallery.

“No grave, immediate threat here.” Stark eyed it, briefly, before turning the footage to another video before calling in mock surprise. “Is that Justin Hammer? How did Hammer get in these? ”

Sure enough, the video footage had Hammer, with his distinct accent, at some testing facility in a desert, likely out in the West. The real life Hammer was frantic in front of the television, trying to turn off the feed, ignoring Stark’s gleeful observations. “Justin, you’re on TV, focus up!”

The patient benevolence Stern had shown up to this point was clearly done. He glared at Stark from across the chambers. Stark couldn’t be bothered, instead sharing a pointed look with Rhodes, who was trying desperately not to laugh outright. The committee members all muttered to themselves as the gallery hummed with curiosity. 

On the video, the test of the robotic suit proceeded as the man inside attempted to turn at the waist. The result was horrific, as the suit overcompensated the turn, twisting the poor man inside nearly completely around. His scream of pain rang through the room, as the device further collapsed down on itself, further compressing him inside. Gasp and cries could be heard in the room, and Peggy found her own hand flying to her mouth in wide-eyed horror. On the video, Justin Hammer could be heard yelling a frantic “Oh, shit!”

Unfortunately for Hammer, it took him that long to find the actual plug of the television monitor and yank it out, turning the screen black. Clearly angry, he stormed back to his table, the gallery in chaos as the cameras all turned towards Hammer. Stern and the committee looked thunderstruck and frazzled. Tony Stark looked delighted.

“Yeah, I’d say most countries, five, ten years away, Hammer Industries, twenty.”

Rhodes shot Stark a pointed side-eyed glance, but Stark seemed amused enough at his own joke. Hammer scrambled to his microphone, clearly flustered. “I’d like to point out that that test pilot survived.”

“I think we’re done is the point that he’s making,” Stern snapped. “I don’t think there is any reason to…”

“The point is you’re welcome!” Stark cut Stern off.

“For what,” Stern sneered.

“Because I’m your new deterrent. It’s working, we’re safe, America is secure. You want my property, you can’t have it, but I did you a big favor. I’ve successfully privatized world peace.”

He rose to turn to the crowd, and the cameras, throwing up his hands in Vs, a symbol Peggy had since learned had come to symbolize peace in the years since World War II and the “V for Victory” she remembered. The gallery burst into applause, and it was clear he was playing the crowd in his favor, portraying himself as the noble hero being oppressed by the greedy government who had no respect for his rights as a citizen. In unison they gave him a standing ovation, as if they were his audience from the night before, delighted in his antics. The senators, Justin Hammer, James Rhodes, and Pepper Potts were less than thrilled with his performance. 

“What more do you want for now,” Stark beseeched the crowd and cameras. “I tried to play ball with these ass clowns!”

“Fuck you, Mr. Stark!” Stern crassly uttered, earning a yelp of surprise from Cassandra. “Fuck you!”

“Wow, CSPAN didn’t even get a chance to bleep that out,” she delighted, amused and surprised.

Stark was hardly offended by the senator’s expletive as he hammed for the crowd, grabbing his sunglasses and device from the table. Stern declared the hearing adjourned for the day, ignoring Stark blowing kisses in the committee's general direction, before posing for photos once again.

“God...he’s an utter ass!” Cassandra picked up the remote to turn it off.

Peggy wasn’t sure which she meant. “Stark or Stern?”

“Yes,” she replied, tossing a hand in the air. “They are both horrible. Stern can’t just go around demanding people’s property, while Stark thinks he is God’s gift to world peace.”

“You know, his father once believed the bomb would bring world peace.”

“And how well did that work out for everybody,” Cassandra pointed out, dourly.

Peggy was far more diplomatic than Cassandra was. “In fairness, Stark is right. They are demanding something that is his property and is keyed to him personally and there are laws. He has a case for it and one that will resonate with the public. Unfortunately for him, all that good will can be lost the minute he does something foolish with the suit, or an accident happens with him in it. With no government oversight, he will be held responsible and open to that sort of legal proceeding. And I don’t think most countries will be fond of having a private citizen with his own mechanized suit coming in and doing as he pleases without some form of government oversight.”

“So we get him onto the Avengers, that solves a lot of problems for everyone, I get it.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to like it, but I get it.”

“I promise I won’t make you work with him if you think you will punch him in the face.”

“I don’t see how you don’t want to punch him in the face,” she huffed, pushing herself up out of her chair. “Outside of looking up Blonsky and what is up with him, what do you need me on, boss?”

“I want you and Burk to continue following Ross’ movements. I don’t trust him further than I can throw him and I suspect he is going to try and subvert our agreement.”

“More than likely,” Cassandra acknowledged. “I’ll add that to my list. Anything else?”

“Yeah, see if you can find Ross’ daughter. I’d like to chat with her on her work and the events that happened around Bruce Banner’s accident. See if you can set up some time for one of us to meet with her.”

“I don’t know if she is talking, but I can see what I can do.”

Peggy glanced at the now dark television thoughtfully. “I need to talk to Romanoff. See if you can get her to connect with me when she is off duty at SI. I need to see what else she’s got on Stark and all of this.”

Cassandra nodded, jotting that down along with the other items. “Got it.”

“I think that’s it for now. Let’s hope Stark doesn’t anger any more politicians before the day is out, thus making our job more difficult.”

“If wishes were fishes,” Cassandra muttered, cheekily smiling as she headed out the door to her own office next door.   
Peggy watched her for a moment before contemplating the television again. She was struck by how similar this Senator Stern was to General Ross, men who sat in powerful positions in Washington, using that power to gain weapons they little understood and certainly didn’t know how to deal with. It was hardly the first time Peggy had ever seen this sort of thinking, but the fact that it was still happening was the thing that terrified her. It was the very reason that SHIELD was founded on, the idea that no one government or person would control so much power, militarily or otherwise, that they could threaten the peace and stability of everyone else. The purpose of SHIELD was to serve as the agency who could balance the possibility of any threats, to neutralize them if needed or to negotiate between them as necessary. 

Since arriving in the future a year before, she found the agency she had founded with Phillips and Howard so long ago was less the great counterbalance to national interests they envisioned and more a policing agency, the babysitters who had to chase down all the problems everyone else created and somehow fix it before they made it worse. Bruce Banner and his accident was one example, Tony Stark was another. They created their own messes and then became outraged when they couldn’t figure out how to manage them.

“Why is it hard,” she muttered, turning back to the report she had been reading through. She couldn’t help but think that Chester Phillips wouldn’t have allowed for any of this to happen. But, then again, Chester Phillips had been the one to authorize an untrained super soldier, his best friend, and a group of reprobates traipse across Europe, hunting down HYDRA sites and essentially running their own shadow war against Hitler’s HYDRA forces…

Peggy sighed, feeling a headache coming on. Perhaps this was all destined to be a mess from beginning to end.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy has a shocking discovery.

Romanoff’s video call came in near 11 o’clock, late for Peggy, but only early evening for the other agent in California. From the small window on the computer screen, Peggy could see that twilight was turning into deeper darkness outside the broad, bay window of wherever Romanoff was staying out there, an apartment that looked fairly nice by the standards she knew most people had in Los Angeles.

“I encrypted this line to make sure it’s secure. Apologies for it being so late, I was having drinks with coworkers. You know, keeping up the cover.” Romanoff looked as if she’d just come in from the office, her dark auburn hair curled, but pinned up on the sides, her outfit that of the young, female professional in 2011. She’d gone undercover at Stark Industries the year before to observe the situation there and attempt to gather information on who had possibly ordered the kidnapping and hit on Stark. It was her information that had been vital in pinpointing Obadiah Stane. Even after Stane’s eventual attempt on Stark’s life and subsequent death, Romanoff had kept her cover on orders from Fury, more as a means to keep an eye on Stark and his suit.

“It’s no worry,” Peggy assured her, despite the lateness of the hour. “Hopefully the cover was enjoyable.”

“Mmm, they used cheap vodka at the bar and I had to listen to the Legal admin assistant complain about how bad her deadbeat boyfriend is in bed, but I’ve spent evenings in worse ways and with less charming company.” She was rather matter-of-fact about it all. Romanoff was in many ways a mystery to Peggy, as she was to many save Clint Barton, her partner. What little Peggy did know wasn’t good, and so her stating she’d done worse things with her time, Peggy had a lingering feeling she almost didn’t want to know what she had been doing - or had done to her.

“How is working at SI?”

That put Romanoff on more comfortable ground. “More dramatic since Stane’s big nosedive. Of course, everyone was sad for about a week around here, but the SHIELD cover worked. A heart attack while surfing in Hawaii was believable enough that no one questioned it, and just saccharine enough people felt it was just the perfect way for him to go. And Stark’s avoidance of all the public appearances save the company memorial was chalked up to his grief at the loss, so no one really thought much of it.”

Peggy had heard from Coulson that they had worked up a cover story that accounted for Stane’s mysterious death. As the former COO of Stark Industries had no immediate family to claim as next of kin, at least not that Stark was aware of, he had arranged for his ashes to be spread at sea, off the coast of Stane’s home in Ventura. Whether there had been any actual ceremony, or if Stark had just paid someone - likely Potts - to dump the ashes into the water and walk away, Peggy couldn’t say. Frankly, if he had gone that route, she wasn’t sure she could blame him.

“If Stane is gone, why is there drama?”

“Oh, that!” Romanoff hummed, leaning her chin on her hand, which rested on her knee where it folded in a big arm chair in front of her laptop camera. “Stark started going through and tearing out all the processes Stane had in place, things he used to hide his transactions, projects he had ordered to further his own business interests, frankly a lot of the stuff I dug up last year. He found it easily enough - perhaps from a well timed, anonymous tip to HR that got forwarded on to him.”

“How very kind of you.”

“Once in a while I have a bout of conscience.” Romanoff shrugged. “There have been major shake ups in the company because of it, which has led to some turmoil, but necessary stuff. Stane had deep fingers here and it’s going to take a while to get them all out.”

“Turmoil that might come back to haunt Stark?”

“Probably.” Romanoff shrugged. “But in the long run, it’s better.”

Peggy trusted Romanoff’s insight on that. “Speaking of Stark, you saw his performance at the Senate hearings the other day?”

Romanoff smirked, pulling from a cold bottle of water before answering. “He’d have a future as a circus leader if they had those things anymore. He certainly knows how to keep all three rings going.”

Not an inaccurate assessment, Peggy thought. “The US military, and by extension, the Senate, are pushing him and so he’s pushing back. They don’t like it. Eventually, they are going to find a reason to come after him and take his suit, whether he likes it or not, no matter the legality. We need to get him under our oversight or he won’t have a choice.”

“You think you will do any better than Fury?” Romanoff’s question was innocent enough, and a fair one at that, considering Fury had tried once already. But there was, as there always was between Romanoff and her, an undercurrent of something. Romanoff didn’t trust her, and all things considered, Peggy couldn’t blame her for that. After all, she had been a dead woman until she had appeared, miraculously, on Fury’s doorstep. If she had been in the other woman’s shoes, she wouldn’t trust her, either.

“I don’t know that I will, but I may be able to convince him, given the right circumstances.”

“And you want to know what his circumstances are?” Perceptive as always, even over 3,000 miles and a secure satellite link, Romanoff arched a knowing, ruddy eyebrow at Peggy.

“You have a better view of him than most, and right now the press is either busy slobbering all over his expensive shoes or vilifying him as a threat to national security. I need something that is somewhat in between.”

“Well, in fairness, both are often true about him, but I admit that’s not been the whole picture. For the most part, outside of leading the realignment of the company in the wake of Stane’s death, he’s not been particularly involved in the high level happenings around here. Since he decided to reveal himself to the world as a superhero, he’s taken even more of a backseat than he had been, especially as the Army has him on their speed dial.”

“Who is doing the decision making at SI, then?”

“That’s been a question Legal has wanted to have an answer to, and in fact Stark just addressed it last week. I guess he’s been thinking through the same problem and it looks like he’s taking steps to formally pass the reins of CEO over.”

That was news Peggy hadn’t gotten wind of. “To whom?”

“My guess, Pepper Potts.”

For all that it made sense, it still surprised Peggy. “His assistant?”

“She’s practically run the company for him for years, or at least kept enough of the high level details running so that all he has to do is answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when asked, which is how he likes it. She’s not a horrible choice, frankly, what she lacks in years of experience she makes up for in years of handling Stark and his chaos. She’s got her undergraduate degree in International Business from UC, Berkely and an MBA from the Anderson School of Business at UCLA before going to work at Biogen Research for their Executive Vice President of Engineering Development, before Stane poached her to babysit Stark. Frankly, if Stane hadn’t found her, she would have been directing her own division somewhere long before now.”

Peggy wasn’t about to deny that Potts had an impressive resume, she’d seen it before, and Peggy well understood the limitations and frustrations of being pigeon-holed as an assistant, especially when you were capable of doing more and often already did behind the scenes. “I suppose I’m more surprised that he saw that value in her. I wouldn’t have thought he would. Typically, some board of directors or eager vice president would swoop in and try to take it.”

“I think after the Stane incident the board is trying their best to stay the hell out of Stark’s general attention. Apparently, at the last board meeting, he kind of let them have it in no uncertain terms, then kept all of Stane’s shares. As he owns the majority of the company again, no one wants to cross him, but I’m guessing he’s going to keep them and fold them into a package offering to Potts as part of her new salary.”

Given that, it all made a particular kind of sense to Peggy. “After Stane, Stark wants to hand his company to someone he trusts, and he trusts no one more than Pepper Potts.”

“Precisely,” Romanoff nodded. “She already gets it. She can keep the ship going in the direction he wants, especially in regards to weapons manufacturing, without having to fight someone new and unknown on it. And frankly, she deserves it. She knows his company better than he does. If she’s been holding it all together behind the scenes, she might as well do it in front of the scenes.”

It surprised Peggy that Romanoff would be so vehement about it. “I suppose that if he’s spending even less time manning his own company it does make sense. When is that transfer supposed to happen.”

“I go in tomorrow to have Stark and Potts sign off on the paperwork and then it’s done. No fuss, no muss, she can officially start whenever she wishes.”

A plan began to formulate at that news, one only Romanoff could really pull off well. “If Potts takes over as CEO for Stark, that means he will need a new assistant.”

Romanoff graced her with a small, rare smile. “I figured you might say that. I took the liberty of having SHIELD put up several portfolios for me for my cover, lay out a trail for Stark to find. I was planning to make sure he noticed me tomorrow. Nothing over the top, but enough to make him intrigued.”

“A good stiff wind on a summer’s day would likely intrigue him,” Peggy muttered in mild exasperation. It was the side of Howard she liked the least, and the fact his son had it and that Romanoff was exploiting it felt somehow worse. “I don’t want to put you in a situation where you might feel uncomfortable.”

Romanoff seemed more amused at Peggy’s discomfort than anything. “Stark will never get that far. Besides, you want me close, correct? Best way to get to Stark is to catch his eye, then earn his trust.”

She was right, Peggy conceded. “All right, fair, I do need you to be close, at least close enough to be eyes on him for me. Right now, Stark is in defensive mode, the government is threatening him and he already doesn’t trust most anyone. If I go to him offering protection and oversight, he is not going to welcome it. He will likely just see SHIELD as being no different than the military and Stern and will shut us down again.”

“You need an in and a way to make him want to work with you rather than them.” With a new goal and objective, Romanoff nodded, clearly playing through her assignment. “If I go in, I don’t just have to earn his interest and trust, I have to earn Potts’ as well. She will be a bit harder of a get, but I think I can pull it off. It’s the fine line of being intriguing and mysterious to him and efficient and professional for her.”

Having done her own fair share of operative work, Peggy could empathize. “If you need anything on this, let me know. Do you want me to call Barton in at all?”

“Nope,” she said, simply, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

That surprised Peggy, who knew the two partners were close. “You sure?”

“He’s on assignment with Coulson at the moment, so I’m sure.” She didn’t explain further, and Peggy gave in, knowing Romanoff was going to give away nothing. “I’ll check in with you in a few days to let you know how things are going.”

“Thank you,” Peggy responded. As always, Romanoff was all distant, professional courtesy. She signed off, causing the window on Peggy’s screen to turn black, with only the whitish-gray text of the special computer language blinking at her. Peggy closed out of it and sighed. She hated that she resorted to this, the slight of hand to put Romanoff in a position to get close to Stark. What little she did know of Stark was that he prized honesty and trust highly, and it would be a pretty poor showing of both if he found out just who Romanoff was, what she was up to, and just why the request was made.

“It would be easier if you weren’t making a bloody ass of yourself,” Peggy muttered to no one in particular, save the plant she had ventured to get and had managed not to kill. She rose heavily from the couch, puttering through her flat, a large, expansive one that would have cost a mint in 1940s money, and she didn’t want to think of what it cost now. Like much of her life, SHIELD had bankrolled it, or Howard’s estate, she wasn’t sure which. She had come to 2010 with little more than the clothes on her back and a rucksack of her dearest possessions, without any means or money, really. It was the benevolence of Howard that had provided her with any funds when she got here, she wouldn’t be shocked if this place was a part of it too. It was..well, it was lovely, she had to admit it, modern by any standards she wished to use, but lovely. For someone who had bounced from boarding houses, to sleeping rolls in the field, to shared rentals, to finally finding a proper flat of her own, having space to wander was a luxury, but it was also somewhat...cold. She’d had company for so long in her living arrangements, she hadn’t had time to adjust to living by herself. And no matter what she told Edwin Jarvis years ago, going at this world alone was rather less than satisfactory.

She’d just decided on consoling herself with ice cream - the fact that it was so abundant and easy to get and have in personal sizes was a marvel of the modern age Peggy wasn’t ever going to get over - when her phone on the counter rang. Frowning first at it, then at the clock above the range, she paused long enough to grab a spoon before looking at the caller and deciding to answer it. “It’s late for even you, Sharon.”

“It would be late if I were in DC.” A television sounded wherever her niece was at. “Am on a case where it is not close to midnight.”

“A case you can speak about?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Sharon wisely replied. “Maybe if I come out of the other side of this with no one dead and a major arrest made, but till then, the less said, the better.”

“All right,” Peggy granted her, prying the cardboard lid off the top of the pint and scraping a spoon along its inside. “So, why are you calling me?”

“Because I figured out why I knew your old roommate.”

That hadn’t been what Peggy had expected. “Roommate...Angie?”

“Yes!” It had been weeks now since their conversation and Peggy had heard nothing further from Sharon on it. She had rather hoped that her niece had forgotten about it all together. “She was Rita Knight in this show, _Agent Knight_ , a cheesy 60’s spy show. I loved that one when I was a kid!”

Peggy stopped, spoon in mouth, frowning out of the far windows that overlooked her balcony and the skyline of Manhattan beyond. The threat of choking on the melting, cold cream forced her to swallow as she set the spoon on the island counter where she sat. “Wait...what is this?”

“It was this crazy, 60s spy show. That was all the rage back then, and Dad used to love the show and the boys and I would watch it when we were kids. Ashley never liked it, but I did. I wanted to be Agent Knight, a cool, sexy superspy who saved the world from bad guys.”

Peggy’s brain was computing none of this. Sharon might as well be speaking gibberish for all she made sense of any of it. “How is Angie involved in any of this?”

“She was in the show! Did you just now catch on?”

“No...I mean, I heard you, but…” Peggy’s poor senses threatened to melt like the ice cream in front of her. “So, you’re telling me you knew her from some television show you used to watch as a child.”

“Yeah, though she was Angelica Martin by that point. I looked her up on IMDB, she did a ton of things, television, movies, stage, even won a Tony in the 70s for some musical. I think she got an Oscar nod. She was a big deal.”

“And you are sure that was my Angie? Angela Martinelli, from the Bronx?”

“Reading it on IMDB now, born Angela Martinelli in New York, New York, August 2, 1924. That sound like her?”

Her throat tight, Peggy tried to speak, but had to clear it before words would come out. “That...that sounds like her.” Her heart squeezed painfully, making her chest hurt. “When did she pass away?”

There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the line before Sharon’s voice sounded, compassionate and soft. “She didn’t. Everything I see, she’s still alive. She’s older, of course, but she’s in her mid-80’s, living in Los Angeles.”

Tears stung her eyes as Peggy found her knees wobbling enough for her to take a seat on one of the stools around the island. “She’s alive?”

“Yeah! When I read that, I thought you would like to know. Her profile is up online if you want to look at it.”

That Angie would have a profile, let alone something known enough to be on the internet, was baffling to Peggy. “She...when I spoke to her last, she’d gone to Hollywood, finally. Howard had made her offers over the years, but she’d been stubborn, wanted to do Broadway. She’d finally took him up on it.”

“Seemed that it was her golden ticket. She had a long and productive career.”

Peggy wiped at her cheeks, uncaring that the ice cream was melting or that she was crying into it. “I...she wanted that career so much.”

Sharon was quiet long moments on the other end. Peggy sniffed, blindly reaching for a towel to wipe at the mess she was making of herself. She hadn’t expected that. Most of all of her old acquaintances were all dead, or possibly dead in the case of Daniel Sousa, whose death remained a mystery. Outside of Steve, who was still buried in the Arctic, Angie was the only one left of who she had been a year ago.

“You doing okay over there?”

“Yeah,” Peggy replied, trying to pull herself together and put the lid back on her now rather soft ice cream. “I just...I will need some time to process.”

“Okay,” Sharon murmured, softly.

“I just had thought, till you called, that she had died, like Howard, and Edwin and Ana, like all of them.”

“I know,” Sharon replied, full of sympathy. “And I can’t imagine what that feels like.”

No, Sharon couldn’t. But she had a good heart, her niece, and she cared for Peggy because she was family. She had reached out with something she thought was good.

“Thank you, for letting me know she’s alive. I’m sorry if I’ve rather ruined your surprise.”

“Don’t worry about it! I think you have a right to cry over it.”

Peggy sniffed again, trying to control her streaming face. “Was the show at least good?”

“Ehhh...it tried. She tried, I guess. It is like an American _Avengers_ \- the British television show of the same period, not the project you are currently trying to drag Tony Stark into.”

That earned a wet laugh out of Peggy, who started finding her equilibrium. “And she was a woman in this?”

“The lead. It was quite a breakout hit in 1965, but it only lasted a season or two and was cancelled. I loved this show so much. Her clothes, her hair, how cool she was.”

Peggy tried to imagine Angie as any of those things and found she couldn’t. Clearly, her friend’s acting skills must have matured and improved with age, as Peggy could only think of her as the plucky girl with stars in her eyes, pouring coffee and asking Peggy about her long day. That was Angie, full of empathy and heart, who was somehow simultaneously down-to-earth and a dreamer. She didn’t know how much she missed her till she didn’t have that person to talk to anymore.

“You know,” Sharon posed, quietly. “I could find her address. We could go say hello, when you are up to it.”

Peggy hadn’t even gotten to the idea of that yet. “I...maybe.” 

Panic at the thought gripped her. What would she say to her? How would she explain this? Angie would have to be 86 now, old enough that the sight of a friend she had long assumed dead, standing on her doorstep, looking not much different than she had in the 1940s, might just cause her heart to fail.

“I could look into it, if you would like.”

Peggy didn’t want to disappoint Sharon. “You can look into it. Maybe, when things are settled more…”

“Sure,” Sharon agreed. “No one said you had to do it tomorrow.”

“It’s just that…”

“Peggy, I get it.” She could hear Sharon’s smile on the other end. “I mean, I can’t speak to what time travel is, or what waking up in a new time is like, but I do get what it is to try and reach out to someone you didn’t think you would get to again. When you’re ready, you can do it.”

Sharon always did seem to understand. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” She yawned, loudly, a gesture that sounded fairly staged to Peggy’s trained ear. “It’s getting late and the day has me beat.”

“I thought you said you were somewhere not on East Coast time?”

“Hmmm, that doesn’t mean it isn’t late where I am.” Whether she was telling the truth or not, Peggy couldn’t say. She likely was simply trying to gracefully get out of the conversation and let Peggy process in peace. “I’ll follow up on that when I’m back in DC. Maybe, when you’re ready, I can even show you old Agent Knight episodes.”

Sharon spoke with the nostalgia of a grown adult remembering fond, childhood memories. Peggy couldn’t dash that. “Maybe, when we get some time together.”

“I’ll let you go. Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight,” Peggy signed off, setting her phone on the counter. Blankly, she took the ice cream and put it back in the freezer, the air icy on her hot face. She closed the door, only to turn her back against the side-by-side handles of the fridge, sliding down them to sit on the floor, knees to her chest as she hugged them tightly. More hot tears fell as she felt herself sobbing, unsure of why she was, really, except that she missed the familiarity of shared experiences, shared stories, shared lives so much, it ached. She didn’t realize how badly she missed it. Peggy had no one to blame but herself for stepping into the future, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She buried her head in her arms and wept.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy deals with the aftermath of several things at once.

Angie was alive...and Peggy didn’t know what to do with that information.

The L&L Automat was long gone, the entire block having been torn down long ago for a tall, glass and concrete office building. Peggy had looked for it in her first few weeks in the future and had been dismayed at its loss. Much like her old flat, it had not survived the ravages of change. Still, this morning she went there, wandered into the lobby of the office building with its workers wandering in and out to their places of employment, all preoccupied with their own business as Peggy considered the layout, trying to find some ghost of her old haunt here. She thought the booths might have once been where the reception desk was, and where the chique boutique selling horribly overpriced clothing now sat might have been the spot she had first been approached by Edwin Jarvis...just before she punched him in the nose. Really, she had no idea. Her old life was well and truly gone, save for the collected items still in crates in her flat, the man she loved somewhere in the Arctic, and the woman she had considered one of her best friends in Los Angeles somewhere.

There was in the innocuous lobby, however, a small tea and coffee shop. None of this ridiculous Starbucks nonsense, this was a smaller shop with careful brewing techniques. To Peggy’s delight she found several teas, including ones she remembered from her youth, purchasing them in loose leaf while waiting on a brewed cup thoughtfully made by a young woman who talked her ear off about how underappreciated a good cup of tea was anymore. Peggy, whose very British nature couldn’t agree more, at least conceded the small, modern affectation of putting said tea in a paper cup to take with her before finally making her way to the office.

Her thoughts were heavy - mostly of her life in a city that was long gone, of Angie, and Edwin and Ana, of Howard and Daniel - when she wandered into the sleek office building that SHIELD now inhabited. She had barely stepped off the lift when she heard her name and saw Cassandra nearly fly at her, a storm brewing in her dark eyes, a file in her hand. “I was going to text you if you didn’t get here soon, this is hot.”

“What is hot?” Peggy sipped at her tea, trying to take the file from Cassandra and walk to her office at the same time.

“Burk has been tapping into the Army network to follow up on Ross and what he’s up to. Turns out, you were right, Ross has been looking for Banner. An elderly man in Wisconsin was taken to University Hospitals in Madison after he had an adverse reaction to a soda made and bottled in Brazil.”

Beyond finding it strange that a Brazilian soda would be found in the fridge of a random man in Wisconsin, Peggy failed to see how this led to Banner. “What was the reaction?”

“His own blood was fighting against itself?”

Peggy stopped in the doorway of her office, paper cup halfway to her lips. Cassandra smiled. “Told you it was hot.”

“It’s insane is what it is.”

“Says the woman who time traveled from the 1940s. Glass houses and stones, Peggy.”

“Very well,” she replied, rounding her desk to set down her lipstick stained cup and her briefcase. She opened the file where sitting on top was this man’s medical file. “I may be from the 1940s, but I believe there are laws that protect this sort of information, aren’t there?”

“You would be right, yes, but Burk found it in the data sent to Ross. I don't know the HIPAA legality at that point.”

Peggy only shook her head, settling in her chair to review it. “You know, you would think that the US Army would protect it’s top secret information better. Should I be worried that SHIELD can just hack into their intelligence network so easily?”

Cassandra seemed to have a disturbingly lackadaisical approach to it all. “You founded SHIELD as an organization that served as an intelligence and global security network outside of the control of any one government or military entity. This is part of that mandate, to ensure that one of the largest armies in the world doesn’t do something dumb. It’s not SHIELD’s fault if the US Army spent more money on Justin Hammer’s guns than on proper cyber security, and perhaps if they had recruited Burk instead of SHIELD, they wouldn’t have this problem.”

Peggy blinked at her only agent in surprise. It was brutal, but it was fair, she supposed. “All right, so this old man’s blood, how does it lead to Banner?”

Here, Cassandra was a bit more cagey. “The exact science of what is going on, I don’t get, I’ll be honest, but I did pull up some of the Army research data you were able to get out of Ross. One of the key differences between Project: Rebirth and the Army’s newer efforts was that they didn’t bill it as an effort to rebuild the super soldier program. What they sold it as was an anti-terrorist program.”

“I know, that’s how Ross got his funding.” It was a clever game of political masking, a maneuver that had been a favorite of Chester Phillips as well.

“On a hunch, I decided to compare notes with Project: Rebirth and what your buddy Howard did and see if there were any variables in common with Ross’ research. One of the things they noted in their initial request was that they planned to study the effects of possibly terrorist attacks on US targets, including radioactive fallout, which in the grand scheme of things is innocuous enough. After all, nuclear bombs are still a thing.”

Peggy picked up where Cassandra was going. “Vita-Rays...Howard used Vita-Rays in Project: Rebirth, that was the stimulant to force cellular growth. That’s what made Steve grow so tall.” Among other things...as Peggy recalled, with a hint of a flush.

“Which is true, that is exactly what Howard used, but since Ross was billing this as a program to protect civilian populations against potential terrorists threats, his program started using other kinds of radiations.”

“Like what?”

Cassandra reached over to flip through the man’s medical file to tap on a page of what looked like medical jargon and Grecco-Latin hodgepodge. One word stood out, however, and Peggy zeroed in on it. “Gamma radiation?”

“Yeah, I checked it against some known lists of potential terrorist weapon concerns, and gamma radiation attacks are a big one thanks to that continuing nuclear weapon problem we are still having.”

Peggy understood somewhat the effects of gamma radiation, particular in the fall out of atomic weapons. “They used gamma radiation as the cellular stimulant. I mean...I suppose it could work in the same way if applied right.”

“But Ross told his team they were looking at a nuclear level event, not making a super soldier, which means they probably applied it like you would if a nuclear bomb exploded in your hometown and you happened to be standing outside when it went off.”

“So Banner was hit with massive amounts of gamma radiation.” Peggy frowned, trying to process what in the world Ross’ team could have done and how it all had gone so wrong. “I don’t understand, how did it cause that reaction in him? How is he even alive?”

“I don’t know.” Cassandra frowned, chewing on her lip as she considered. “Ross never has given us real notes from the experiments.”

“No, he keeps claiming Banner destroyed them. Between you and me I think he conveniently erased and destroyed them when the Banner incident came to light. Easier to wiggle out of his own culpability in it all, paint Banner as a rogue scientist messing with things that he shouldn’t have been and say that it resulted in a horrible accident and horrific monster.” Peggy was starting to wish she had taken the opportunity to punch Ross in the face in their various meetings together.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Seriously, how is this man still in the military?”

“Ross is a career soldier. You make a lot of friends when you serve that long.”

“Well, without that data I can’t say for sure how Banner survived, but he did, and he’s probably the only living person running around with that much Gamma radiation in his system.”

“Except for this man in Wisconsin,” Peggy tapped the paper in front of her. “So he claimed he got ill off of a Brazilian soda?”

“That’s what he told the ER doctors, and that’s what was in the report that Ross got. And funnily enough, guess who just sent a team down to Brazil to investigate.”

“Of course he did,” Peggy sighed. “And as I got no phone call on the matter, I’m guessing he sent his new acquisition down there to fetch Banner in secret so I wouldn't find out about it.”

“Blonsky and his men were mentioned, yes.”

“Did you find out anything useful on him?”

“Other than the fact that he is old enough to have been promoted up a few times, but keeps refusing because he likes killing things, nothing much really. He was born in Russia, but was repatriated to England when his parents defected to the West in the 70s. He went into the Royal Marines straight out of school and hasn’t looked back. Career soldier through and through.”

“So nothing that would make him particularly formidable against something like what Banner turns into?”

“No, which begs the question why, save Blonsky is cold blooded enough to kill Banner if he has to.”

Peggy sighed, less because she was surprised - she wasn’t - and more because the entire situation gave her a headache. For as long as she could remember, the Army had tried to recreate Steve Rogers, using whatever they could to do it and never succeeding. How many other good men had been experimented on? If she dug more deeply, would she find other super soldiers, other products of the vain attempts to capture lightening in a bottle once again?

“It seems such a shame,” Cassandra murmured, looking at the file of the older gentleman who had got caught up in this drama by happenstance. “I mean, beyond this guy getting sick, which is horrible, there is also Banner. Dude was just a scientist, working on a project his girlfriend brought him on, doing his bit, and Ross had to destroy his life. All of this to try and get another weapon.”

“Get another Steve Rogers,” Peggy replied, closing the file to pass it back to Cassandra. “That is the magic bullet, after all. They wanted him.”

“All these tries, and they never got him. What made him so special?”

Peggy’s already aching heart tightened at that, her red-lacquered nails running along the edge of the cardboard cup holder in her hand. “Nothing, really...and everything. I don’t know, you live in Brooklyn, what is it over there that makes a Steve Rogers?”

That made Cassandra laugh. Clearly, she hadn’t thought of it from that angle. “I’d say the water, because the bagels and pizza really do taste better over there.”

“I’ll be sure to include that in any future notes should someone else lose their mind and try another attempt at recreating a super soldier. As for the Banner situation, I want to see how successful they will be. Keep monitoring it for me.”

“Um, you say that as if it will be anything other than a hot disaster.”

“Even in a hot disaster we can at least get a read not only on if Ross has found him, but just how powerful he is. We need to consider how we will be able to subdue him, if it comes down to that.”

Cassandra gave a conceding shrug. “Fair, I suppose. And if this goes pear shaped on Ross and his team?”

Peggy considered. “Give Coulson a call, see if he’s willing to have a team on standby to help clean up any mess Ross leaves behind. I'm already taking on handling the Stark situation for him.”

“And thus keeping him in line and under SHIELD’s thumb.” Cassandra clearly liked this. “Speaking of which, how is the Tony Stark situation going?”

Peggy wished she had more to say. “He’s trying to pass control of SI to his assistant, Pepper Potts.”

“Really!” For a woman who loved her gossip, this caught even Cassandra by surprise. “He’s giving up SI?”

“Romanoff suspects its because being Iron Man means that it will be more difficult to run his company, and Potts is a more stabilizing force.”

“Still, that’s a big deal, passing off his father’s company, the one he nearly died for, off to his assistant.” Her eyes narrowed, questioningly. “You don’t think the two of them are…”

“First, do not fall into the cliche of the secretary sleeping her way to the top of the company.”

She had Cassandra on that one. The other woman flushed and held her hands up in surrender. “All right, fair point.”

“Second, as Romanoff pointed out, she is very qualified to do the job. Third…” Peggy paused, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t think the two of them are in that sort of relationship, but I think that if they are no longer boss and employee that they might end up in that place, yes.”

Cassandra frowned as she tried to follow the path of Peggy’s sentence. “So...they aren’t sleeping together now, but they might if she was CEO and he was no longer her boss.”

“Or they could just build a relationship together, not just give into their physical attraction.” Peggy felt the need to defend both of them and their potential romance. “Honestly, the two of them are mad about each other, it’s rather obvious and it makes your teeth hurt.”

“What was it I said earlier about a woman who stepped through time from the 1940s? Didn’t she come forward in part looking for the man who she was crazy about back them?”

Peggy snagged a paperclip from a holder on her desk and flicked at the unapologetic agent. “Quiet! Long and the short is Stark is going to start focusing his energies exclusively on his new persona as Earth’s greatest defender. The army is going to push him harder, and he’s going to not want to deal with them and their idiocy any further. I hope that if we can get to Banner, play ball with him and do so nicely, we can use this as an example to hold up to Stark, show him that SHIELD isn’t out to take his suit or to make him sign up to do anything he doesn’t want to do. If we can assure him he will have all of his personal freedom if he just plays ball with us, perhaps...perhaps I can convince him.”

Cassandra thought Peggy’s plan through, shrugging. “Sure, it might work, after all, that’s essentially the relationship you all had with Howard until...well, you disappeared.”

“Yes,” Peggy sighed. “More importantly, if we can sell him on the idea that none of his creativity will be held in check and that we won’t try to make him into something he doesn’t want to be - namely a soldier - that he will at least accept the banner of our oversight, such as it is. Once he’s agreed, the US government will have to back off, as he is now protected under the UN Charter.”

“I’m glad someone remembers that that thing exists and knows how to use it.”

“Well, I was one of the key people helping to write it. Pity no one else remembers it exists.” Knowing she was whinging, she chose to switch the topic. “Before I forget, do we have any word yet on me meeting with Dr. Ross?”

“The Bio-Chem department at Culver University says she will be in New York next week, actually, for a conference at Columbia. I figure that was a good time to catch her, if you wanted.”

“Oh!” It was convenient enough for Peggy, and it saved her an extra trip to DC to go see her. Not that Sharon would mind if Peggy had stayed to visit. “That will work out, then, if she is alright with meeting me.”

“I’ll confirm and let you know. She's been somewhat hesitant to set this all up. I suppose it wouldn’t be easy, discussing what happened in the lab that day.”

“No,” Peggy agreed, sipping at her rapidly cooling tea, frowning at the folder. “The elderly man who had the soda, what happened to him?”

Cassandra sobbered. “It almost killed him, but he survived.”

That was a relief. “Ross is going to get people truly killed if we don’t find Banner.”

The agent nodded, sighing deeply. “Then I better get on it. I’ll put in a call to Coulson and go chat with Burk and see what we can do to get a team on the ground to pitch clean up.”

Peggy nodded by way of dismissal as Cassandra in her ever present efficiency went off to follow her threads. Peggy had her own work, she knew, particularly on finishing a proposed support structure and budgets for the Avengers, should the World Security Council either come down off their high horse or Fury come through with money. If this scheme worked and she got the two smartest men on the planet to agree to work with her and Steve, they would need to have plans in motion.

Instead, she found herself turning on the computer at her desk to do something else. While she perhaps wasn’t as versatile as most people with these machines - after all, she had only learned to use one a year ago - she had managed to figure out the most basic, day-to-day aspects of them. It didn’t take her long to get onto a web browser and Google, the magic webpage that allowed her to find more things than she ever wanted to know about. Searching up Angelica Martin quickly turned up pictures, news articles, and video clips. One look at them all and Peggy knew that Sharon was right...that was her Angie.

She had made it as an actress after all.

Eyes misty, she clicked onto the site Sharon had suggested, looking up the profile they had, reading the information with a beating heart. It was perfunctory in the extreme, likely carefully cultivated by either Angie or an agent somewhere along the line, but it was clear that her life had not been wasted. Peggy’s gentle suggestion that she take up Howard’s unending offers to work for him at his studio had panned out, small at first with rolls in mostly television, which had been up-and-coming then, but she’d persisted in film and theater. Decades of credits followed, honors she had received, photos of her over the years. She’d married at some point and had children. Now she was at an age where her acting parts where fewer, but Peggy could see dates as recently as last year, which meant she hadn’t slowed down entirely yet.

Perhaps, she could go find her…

Reason screamed in then, shutting down that impulse almost before it could rear to life. It had been sixty years. The last Angie had heard of her was a letter hastily sent on New Years, 1949. As far as she was concerned, Peggy Carter, her friend, went off on a mission she never returned from. To just appear, out of the blue, standing on Angie's front porch hale and hearty, might have her dear friend thinking she was losing her mind.

Still…

A knock at her door snapped her attention forward again as Cassandra smiled, apologetic. “Sorry, one last thing, if I get a beat on Banner and where he is, do you want me working with Coulson to get an extraction team in there to get him out?”

Peggy blinked, her mind shifting gears as she considered. “Umm...no...send in teams to monitor but don’t engage. We don’t know how dangerous he is yet, and if he suspects we are a threat he may attack us. Keep your distance, let’s assess the situation, then go from there.”

“Got it.” Cassandra’s dark pony tail whipped around the corner again. Peggy glanced at her screen, then clicked out of it. Perhaps later she could watch some of her friends work. Now...right now, dwelling on memories didn’t solve the situation at hand. Instead, Peggy sipped her tea, getting to work.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy checks in with Agent Coulson.

Not unexpectedly, the situation in Brazil went pear-shaped.

“What happened,” Peggy demanded as Agent Burk, a member of the communications side of SHIELD who she happened to purloin into working with her more than anything, began frantically pulling up screens of data in his hub, his team busily monitoring things on the ground.

“Well, if I had a guess, Director, it would be that General Ross likely neglected to tell his team just what was going on.” Burk pulled up what looked like security camera footage of a giant, green monster tearing through a building without batting an eye. Someone in Burk’s crew gasped, another muttered “Jesus Christ.” 

Beside her, Cassandra only sighed and palmed her face into her hand. “I knew that was going to happen,” she ground out in mild frustration.

“So did I,” Peggy consoled her, glancing at Burk. “So, break it down for me as best as you can tell.”

Charles Burk was not what Peggy would have expected for a typical agent. Not much taller than Peggy, rather portly, bald, and heavily near sighted, he was what Jack Thompson back in the day would have referred to him as an “egg head,” geared more towards science than actual field work, but Peggy found that in this future world with all of it’s high tech gadgets and ridiculously interconnected means of communication, the Agent Burk’s of the world had the true pulse of the happenings out there. As it was, his personal team was only a small fraction of a larger SHIELD division that monitored all communications on a global scale. Far easier than the mail rooms of World War II, which had busily redacted all data, this lot scanned through all manner of potential data. Peggy had set them on General Ross months ago.

“Well, judging by Ross’ communications, much as Agent Kam briefed you, he brought in Emil Blonsky from British special forces. Blonsky’s well known as one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in any army and something of a tactical genius, I suppose.”

Having known a tactical genius, Peggy highly doubted that. “Why didn’t he go in house to the US Army to find someone as skilled?”

Burk shrugged his round shoulders. “Beats me. The only excuse they had was that Blonsky is a veteran soldier, highly skilled, built for the sort of dangerous secret missions that would get anyone else killed.”

“Except, it nearly got him killed, and it did get several members of his team killed,” Cassandra chimed in.

“Judging from how badly this whole thing went, I don’t know if Blonsky had the full picture of what he was facing.”

Images popped up all over, of a bottling factory - Peggy surmised it was the one that had created the soda the man in Wisconsin had consumed - of troops clearly in ops gear crawling all over the place, and ultimately the figure of the creature from the footage Peggy had seen, the same one who had torn up Ross’ lab five years before.

“I think the highlight of the entire thing is when a forklift comes flying at Blonsky’s head from off screen.” Burk may have sounded like he was joking, but his tone clearly wasn’t. “He survived, but several of his comrades didn’t.”

Peggy privately swore to herself. “How many did he get?”

“Not sure, but I counted at least two. Even if he didn’t mean it, you can see whatever he turns into isn’t precisely as highly functioning as Banner is. He tried to get away, they pursued, then this happened.”

“And Ross knew,” Peggy muttered, slamming a hand briefly on the top of Burk’s desk. “He knew and he sent men in there anyway, unprepared no less.”

Cassandra quietly broke into Peggy’s tirade. “I don’t know if he wanted too many people to know what it was Banner could do. I don’t know how many people out there know that Banner is even still alive.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t foolish,” she snapped, frustrated. “Where is Blonsky and his team now?”

“They packed up two hours ago and are en route. Do you want a SHIELD team in there?”

Peggy sighed. “Yeah, we need to send someone to clean up whatever the Army left behind. Let me put the call in.”

In frustration, she wandered out of Burk’s lab, dialing Phil Coulson’s direct line. It took several rings, but he finally answered in his ever polite, concise manner. “Director Carter, it’s a pleasure to hear from you.”

That elicited something of a smile in this bad situation. “Will I ever convince you to call me Peggy?”

“You convinced me to call you Carter, that’s about as far as I’m willing to go.”

Peggy chuckled. She had grown rather fond of Fury’s most important agent, a man who was devoted to the work and who had a good heart underneath his calm, cool efficiency. That he had a sort of romanticized impression of not only Steve Rogers as Captain America, but herself as well, did mildly amuse and bemuse her, no less because his normal _modus operandi_ was so utterly the antithesis of the schoolboy delight he had in meeting someone he considered a childhood hero. That said, she knew there were few people Peggy personally trusted in SHIELD more than Coulson. She knew that not only would he do the job, he would do it well.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” she began, trying to be as politic as possible.

“Hopefully one that isn’t going to involve anything embarrassing or detrimental to either my life or career choices.”

“You assume I would ask that of you?”

“I assume nothing. How can I be of assistance?”

Peggy snorted, softly. “We have a situation. What do you know of Bruce Banner?”

“That he was a brilliant scientist who had a very, very bad day once.”

“Mmmm, that bad day hasn’t gone away.” Peggy leaned against the wall outside of Burk’s main operations. “Thaddeus Ross hasn’t stopped looking for him, and word got back to SHIELD about it. I made a deal with Ross that I’d handle his...Tony Stark problem if he gave me Banner.”

“And you believed him?”

“Hardly,” Peggy snapped, somewhat indignantly. “Ross is like every other general I ever met, he wants the best soldiers and weapons to play war with and he never thinks about the human cost. I figured that even if Ross agreed to it in person, he would double cross me the minute my back was turned, so we’ve been monitoring the missions he’s been sanctioning in the hopes of him leading us to Banner. He just sent a group to Brazil to try and grab him.”

Coulson was quiet for a long moment on the other end before speaking. “And so...you want us to send a team in to extract an 8 foot, green giant who could in theory kill all of us?”

“No, not precisely. Ross’ men already tried that, you see.”

“Ahh,” Coulson replied. “How successful were they?”

“Not,” Peggy muttered. “Burk used his technological wizardry to follow the team communication in the area. They basically cocked it all up from start to finish. The local police have pulled security footage and are now aware of at least a large, green monster in the city, and already I can imagine the Brazilian government has some very hard questions it wants to ask the United States embassy about unauthorized military activity in their country.

“I bet they do,” Coulson murmured. “You’ve not spoken to Ross?”

“Ross doesn’t know I’m following him or his movements. I suspect he went in there so hard and fast because he hoped to get Banner and spirit him off before SHIELD could get a hold of him.”

“Of course he would, because Ross is an asshole.”

Coulson wasn’t usually given to course language, but Peggy couldn’t agree with him more. “This is where the favor comes in. We may need a team to go in and clean up the mess Ross left behind in Brazil.”

“How bad is it?”

“We are talking an 8 foot green man, I suppose the damage will be quite extensive and hard to explain, especially to the locals.”

“Right,” Coulson sighed. She could hear him tapping something plastic against something hard, likely a pen, twiddling as he thought. “My usual go to on any situation are Barton and Romanoff, but she’s on Stark detail still and Barton is with me.”

“And how is New Mexico,” Peggy teased, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer out of him.

“Enchanting, haven’t you heard?” She could hear his smirk through the phone line. He had never explained what he did there, only that he was working on something high profile, and Peggy guessed it was one of Fury’s mysterious projects that he didn’t want her knowing about, likely one the World Security Council wanted to fund rather than the Avengers Initiative.

“So if we can’t get those two, who would you suggest?”

“We could ask Sitwell to run the ops on this one. He tends to handle STRIKE Team One. That’s Rumlow’s unit. He probably is best suited for it anyway, this will likely need a tactical approach on the ground with Sitwell running the political and administrative sides through him.”

Peggy knew none of these people but took Coulson’s word for it. “Do you think you can connect with this Sitwell and direct him to me for operation parameters?”

“I could. I don’t think his team are stationed anywhere hot at the moment. They should be available.”

“And this is why Fury calls you his left hand.” Peggy of course knew Coulson’s value, it didn’t take long to see that. She couldn’t help but appreciate it all the same. “You may want to warn him that Banner is on the run, and I don’t know what that means. There may be a rather large swath of area they may have to follow up on, depending on where he got to.”

“I’ll have him run some follow up on the ground. Perhaps we can track where Banner got to and get to him before Ross figures it out.”

“Heaven knows what he will do now that Banner has slipped through his fingers once.” Peggy was more irritated than surprised. She knew he would do this, she just hadn’t expected for him to muck it up this badly. “As if handling Stark wasn’t enough, now I’m having to clean this up. I suppose I brought it on myself.”

“Stark’s making no friends up on the Hill. I saw his performance in front of the Armed Services committee.”

“He has his father’s gift of the theatrical,” Peggy agreed, dryly. “We knew that last fall when he announced the bloody thing to the world.”

“If he had stuck to the script, none of this would be an issue.”

Peggy did know that, but she had also known at the time it was probably unlikely that Tony Stark would. “My hope is that he will behave himself long enough for us to handle the Banner situation and then manage him.”

“Good luck with that. I saw the news this morning. Stark is naming Pepper Potts as SI’s new CEO?”

“That is the intel.”

“Not going to lie, I didn’t see that one coming.”

Peggy had to smile at the hint of disgruntlement out of Coulson. As a man who made his living out of thinking several steps ahead of others, Stark’s propensity for surprising other, not to mention outthinking them, had to be both irritating and unnerving. In fairness, Peggy hadn’t precisely seen it coming either when Romanoff told her.

“I suppose when you consider that she is one of the few people that he trusts implicitly, it makes sense. I don’t believe that anyone the board would have chosen would have been someone he trusted, not after Obadiah Stane.”

“All a fair point, and I am not saying she isn’t a smart choice from his perspective, but the news is having a field day with it.”

“I've yet to even see it, I’ve been trying to manage the Brazil piece with Burk and Kam.”

“CNBC is billing her as the ‘secretary who made good’.”

Peggy sighed and rolled her eyes. She had expected the trope, but even still, it frustrated her on the other woman’s behalf. “If Potts has survived years of keeping Stark out of the fire, she will manage the media just fine.”

“Let’s hope Stark’s shareholders feel the same.”

Peggy knew he was right. SI’s shares had been shaky since the Stane reveal, and she doubted the placement of a new and untried CEO would make investors feel any more confident. “Romanoff will be trying to fill Potts’ position, so we can have eyes and ears on Stark. I’ve not heard from her, but I am hoping it was successful.”

“I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be, Romanoff’s a pro at this.” Coulson spoke with confidence and a hint of pride in the former Russian agent. “Seriously, only one other agent comes close to her skill level and he’s still miles off and has none of her charisma.”

“Which is good, because I need her to push Stark.

That caught Coulson short. “Push him?”

“Push him, see where his breaking points are. “Peggy had considered this since her discussion with Romanoff the other night. “I know she does it. She did it to me.”

Coulson at least had the grace to not deny it. “Fury was curious to see what you would do.”

“And I’m curious to see what Stark does. His critics are right, he’s a man with a weapon on his back. I want him on the Avengers, but I can’t justify it to anyone if he proves irresponsible with it.”

“What if he is irresponsible?”

Peggy stared at the blank wall in front of her. Lang had been clear about Stark’s involvement. She had to trust that. “I have to believe he won’t be.”

Whether Coulson thought her mad or not, she didn’t know. “I hope you’re right.”

“I do as well. There is a lot riding on this.”

“I know,” he replied. “I’ll reach out to Sitwell and have him contact you about Brazil. Perhaps we can get a beat on Banner and where he is heading. Maybe get to him before Ross does.”

“Thank you. I will owe you for it.”

“Let’s call it even. Besides, I’m sure we will be mutually having to set out fires for each other for a while yet.”

“And here I thought SHIELD was a good idea in the first place.” Peggy had to wonder some days if she wasn’t mad for thinking that in the first place.

“Obviously it was, else the world would have already been destroyed and who knows what situation we would be in right now.”

Thank God for Coulson and his optimism. “I’ll wait to hear from Sitwell.”

“Best of luck,” he wished as she rang off.

Returning to the room, Peggy found Burk and Cassandra were bent over a tablet. “Coulson is getting a different STRIKE team together for an assist in Brazil. They will run clean up with the locals and smooth out things with law enforcement, and if they can, see if they can find Banner’s trail.”

“Where could a creature like that go where he wouldn’t be noticed?” Burk’s eyes were as wide as saucers behind his thick glasses.

“I don’t know, but Banner’s managed to hide for the last five years, I’m guessing whatever he becomes is at least smart enough to figure out how to avoid people if he didn’t want to be detected.” Peggy frowned at the ruined soda manufacturing company. “All Ross needed to do was to reach out to me, be honest with me. We could have sent a team in, perhaps even had a conversation with Banner, and all of this could have been avoided. All this destruction, people injured and dead, livelihoods destroyed, all because Ross wants to win?”

“That’s how Banner got in this situation in the first place,” Burk sighed, nodding to the image of him in his normal, natural state. “Ross wanted to prove he could get results. He cut corners, pushed too hard, and this is what you get.”

“Small wonder his daughter doesn’t talk to him,” Cassandra grumbled, dourly. “Are you going to go and see her over the weekend? She will be in town at that conference.”

“I’m seeing her on Sunday,” Peggy affirmed, though she was somewhat surprised that Dr. Ross agreed to it. “She’s got a panel in the morning, on ethics in science. I thought I would go and see what she had to say.”

“I imagine a lot,” Cassandra replied, nodding her head at the screen. “Especially in regards to him.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy chats with Betty Ross.

Unlike her father, Elizabeth Ross was a reasonable, intelligent, clear-eyed woman with the sort of brains and thoughtfulness that made her respected in her field. It was unfortunate that her chosen field wasn’t the military, Peggy could have seen her doing well as a general, but instead she had run to the sciences. With a doctorate in biochemistry from Harvard and decades of research experience, she was the sort of hot property that schools the world over would jump for, so it was small wonder that she was the keynote presenter at a conference on biological research and ethics. Peggy had hoped to go early enough to see her presentation, but had chosen instead to go to one of her panel sessions on the ethical bounds of bio-research, as this was closest to the time she had set up with Dr. Ross to meet with her.

Columbia sat on the Upper West Side, closer to Harlem than to Peggy's apartment, a sprawling campus that overlooked the Hudson River and New Jersey on the other side. It was a lovely spring day before exams, and students sprawled across lush lawns or set up on benches and walls, wherever was closest, study, napping, or playing around with balls or plastic discs that floated along the breeze, not unlike Steve’s shield. She watched a bright pink one with sparkling paint float by as she found her way to the conference inside one of the auditorium areas on campus. The event was large enough to have drawn academics from all over the world, but Peggy was not one of those.

“Are you registering for the event?” A harried looking woman looked up at her under a frazzle of graying curls.

“No, I’m here to wait for Dr. Ross.” Peggy held up her badge by way of greeting. “We have an appointment, never fear. It is a professional discussion.”

The woman stared at the badge around a rather beak-like nose, but asked no questions. “She is a session in room 154, it’s the auditorium. If you sit in the back, I’m sure you won’t be noticed.”

“Thank you,” Peggy smiled, tucking her badge back in her bag and adjusting her red hat. Few in this day and age wore these anymore, but in certain moments, such as this, Peggy found she took comfort in it. Not that she was nervous to meet Thaddeus Ross’ daughter, frankly, she seemed far more reasonable than her father did on most things. More, she found with all the other pieces of her life, she needed to pull some courage from it, to remember who she was and why she had come forward in time in the first place.

The auditorium wasn’t difficult to find, marked as it was with a giant printed board on an easel, complete with Dr. Ross’ face. She was an astonishingly pretty woman, with her father’s eyes and facial shape, but very little else. She must take more after her mother, who Peggy knew, from her conversations with the general, had died when their daughter was still fairly young. She had guessed from the way he had mentioned her in their passing conversations that she had been gone for some time. This perhaps accounted for, in part, the distance between father and daughter. 

The auditorium was quiet as Peggy slipped in, a panel sitting behind a long table, skirted in a blue fabric with the crest of the university on the front. Two other scientists sat alongside her, but it was Dr. Ross who was speaking as Peggy turned her attention to the stage. She seemed to be addressing a young student in front of a microphone, wearing the standard, modern university uniform of jeans, an ironic t-shirt, and a slouchy jumper of stretchy, knit material, something they called a “hoodie.”

“So, to answer your question, yes, we have to walk that fine line of what is ethical and what is beneficial,” Ross replied to a question Peggy had missed. “Research in the agrisciences is an example of how we can go into something with the best of intentions, trying to better the world, but the end result may not come out according to plan. It is in these moments that we as scientists need to step up and admit that we made a mistake, and work to help address solutions and not cover up the problem.”

She paused, looking out to the darkened audience for a moment, thoughtfully. “We all have this persistent, and erroneous, belief that science is this pure system, that through science we can do no wrong, and that is of course a fallacy. Science is a human construct, just like any other philosophy, really. It’s a method that we have collectively constructed through our own intellect and have all agreed upon as the best paradigm by which we can understand the universe. And, I mean, as a scientist, I think it’s one of the best means by which to understand the universe, but certainly that doesn’t make it perfect. There will always be factors of human error in there, it’s inevitable. At its best, science is a tool - a philosophy if you are more of a humanities bent - that we apply to try and make sense of the world, but it only is as good as the person who is using it. Sometimes people...they screw up and either they get their data set wrong, or a student researcher got lazy and forged data so they could go on a hot date - not that any of you would do that!”

There was a general rumble of laughter from the room, Peggy guessed mostly from the students who had attended the conference. Dr. Ross smiled, laughing with her colleagues, before continuing. “I mean, it happens. Sometimes an outside factor comes and messes up our results, dust in the air, a freak rainstorm, maybe we didn’t eat lunch that day and misread a number. A lot of things happen, and we screw it all up. The truth is, you got to own up to it, to own to your mistake, because if you don’t, how can the wider community ever have faith in you and your work again? And this stuff is important, because now at days we see science attacked on all fronts. I mean, look at the reaction to global warming or to vaccines. People don’t want to see what’s in front of their faces, so they find reasons to discredit it.”

Another man on the panel, older, his silver hair receding from his high forehead, nodded slowly beside her before chiming in. “We see that all the time in the news. You bring up global warming, which my colleagues at NASA have studied and gathered data on, both on the ground in places like the poles, but from space as well. We see the proof of it, our Arctic ice caps are shrinking at an alarming rate. I mean the ice flow north of Canada, Russia and Scandanavia is nearly non-existent. When I was a boy in Norway, the northern areas would hardly ever see a day warmer than the 50s in Fahrenheit. Now, just within the last ten years, we are seeing consistent days well into the temperate 70s and 80s, sometimes even in the 90s in the middle of summer. These are areas north of the Arctic circle. We are seeing the effects of it and yet people want to dismiss it as being a one-off, as being not a big deal, as maybe the data is wrong or it’s just a freak year or something, but we know it’s happening. That’s why ethics in science are so, so important, because if you give anyone reason to doubt some of your data, they will doubt all of it, even the important stuff they should listen to.”

The student at the microphone nodded and thanked the panel as they went to sit back down. At another microphone on the other end of the auditorium, a man in a suit stood there, smiling politely at the panel as he began to speak. “Hi, there! It’s been great hearing from all of you this afternoon. I have a question primarily directed at Dr. Ross, but all of you can speak into it if you like. I appreciate what you said about science and mistakes, owning up to when we cross that line. I can’t help but think of Oppenheimer in that moment and his response to President Truman about having ‘blood on his hands’ in regards to the nuclear weapon.”

That anecdote caught Peggy’s attention. Howard had been in the thick of that mess in the years after the war. He had called Robert Oppenheimer a bleeding heart, rolling his eyes in disgust at the physicist who had been horrified by what the nuclear bomb he had helped to create had done. Frankly, Peggy hadn’t blamed Oppenheimer, she had been horrified herself, and when Howard admitted it, he too had been dismayed by the sheer carnage done. But Howard’s frustration with Oppenheimer laid less in his reaction to the destruction and more in what he did next, writing letters to Secretary Atchison and then performing a _mea culpa_ in Harry Truman’s office, earning the ire of the then President. Peggy had herself received an earful from Truman, a crude tirade from the little lawyer from Missouri, punctuated with the sort of language she'd not been aware he knew. He had told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of the respected scientist. Howard rushed to patch up things on all of it with the military establishment, fearing that Oppenheimer’s guilt would scuttle all future work on better and less destructive technology, but as it turned out the Cold War and arms race outstripped even his best intentions. By that point, everyone wanted a nuclear weapon and there was no going back after that.

The man at the microphone knew none of this, and so he continued, blithely unaware there was anyone in the room who actually knew Oppenheimer. “In any case, I have been reading a lot of the scientists of World War II and their research and efforts. So much of what they did still has repercussions in the modern world, obviously, like nuclear weapons. I was just catching up on M. Peter Lewis’ latest biography on Abraham Erskine. I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to read that?”

The panel all shook their head in the negative, while in the darkened back row of the auditorium, Peggy’s heart raced. She knew where this rambling man’s comment was going and she held her breath, waiting for him to wander to what his ultimate point was. If this was a discussion of ethics and science, she knew he was zeroing in on super soldiers, specifically Steve.

“It’s an enlightening book, I can’t recommend it enough,” the man verbally wandered, in his meek and well-spoken way. “He was most interested in the ethics of what Erskine did, creating this serum. You know, it started out, as many things do, as simply a way to help chronically sick patients. He was a young doctor in the early part of the 20th century, around the same time as people like Kellogg were around, trying to think of ways to help strengthen the populace and use science to prevent all these persistent diseases. He hadn’t meant it as a means of creating an ‘ultimate soldier,’ he stumbled on that almost by accident, and yet he became this key figure in the arms race between the Allies and Axis in World War II. One could argue that the war criminal, Johann Schmidt, would never have existed the way he did if Erskine hadn’t have made the formula in the first place. So, my question for the panel is what does one do when something you created for good, to do something right and just in the world, turns into a weapon used for evil?”

The panel, who had all politely listened to the meanderings of the speaker at the microphone, led out a collective huff of consideration, as Peggy felt her own breath release where she sat. This was not the first time Erskine, or the ethics of his work, had been brought up around her. Certainly, even in the 1940s, it had been a topic of debate, glossed over by the pressing needs of a war that was swallowing the entirety of Europe and threatening to drag the US into it. Few people cared about the ethics of scientific experiments on human subjects, she supposed, when there were bombs falling out of the sky and people were dying. Now, 70 years later, suddenly it was a topic for academic debate, bandied around in the abstract. The real life situation - and Abraham Erskine in it - were little more than a historical memory.

“Well,” a darker skinned man, who Peggy suspected was from India, spoke up. “I can’t say I’m as familiar with Dr. Erskine’s work. Of course, for those of you out in the audience who don’t know, Abraham Erskine was famous during the war for having developed a serum that, when given to an ordinary soldier and under the right conditions, could foster growth of the body’s tissues, allowing for increased strength, endurance, cognition, and imperviousness to the elements.”

“A super soldier,” the Norwegian man said, glancing at Dr. Ross, who was busily scribbling on a pad of paper.

“Quite,” said the Indian man, nodding in affirmation. “There were very few successful subjects of Erksine’s original formula. One was suspected to be Johann Schmidt, one of Hitler’s chief leaders. The other was an American soldier...Rogers was his name?”

“Steve Rogers,” Dr. Ross pipped up, finally looking at her colleague with a small smile. “Captain Steve Rogers, he was the end result of Project: Rebirth. He was supposed to be the beginning of an entire program using the serum to create these soldiers, something like a factory I suppose. His results were successful, as I understand, much better than Schmidt’s, but Erskine died right after the only run of that iteration of the formula was made. It came out years later in Army declassified documents that a German spy had made his way into the lab and assassinated Erskine, so his formula died with him. Since then it has become something of the holy grail for those of us in cellular biology and biochemistry, to recreate Erskine’s formula. After all, Steve Rogers was one of the greatest soldiers of all time. Who wouldn’t want that?”

A general rumble of appreciative chuckles rose. Peggy felt her own aching heart swell at that. People still remembered Steve and still appreciated him, not that he was ever out for fame. He’d likely have blushed furiously for even being brought up in the conversation.

“But beyond the military applications,” Dr. Ross continued. “There are the other medical benefits of something like this serum, treatment for chronic diseases, as an example, which was what Erskine was trying to address, perhaps even helping prevent some of the more common ones. There could be answers to congenital conditions, even the wear and tear on the body due to old age or dementia. These things could, in theory, be treated by different, non-military uses of the serum if research could be done. Unfortunately, we have seen the side effects of what the serum can do. Schmidt is just one example, but perhaps the most well-known one. Till we can ensure that the serum can be used safely on human test subjects, I don’t know if it should be used on them at all. When it goes bad, it does so in the worst sort of ways. We were lucky with Steve Rogers. I don’t know if Erskine anticipated just how lucky we were with him.”

“But you asked about what happens when something we create for good becomes used in a manner that is evil,” the Indian scientist, whose name placquered was far too small to read from where Peggy sat. “I mean, certainly, I think one of the first things we should do is speak out, especially if it is our science, our research and insight being used to further something of great evil. I think of Oppenheimer, of how there were many of his colleagues who urged him not to speak out, that it wouldn’t be well received, that he’d be ridiculed for it, and yet he felt the moral obligation to say something. I think as scientists it is easy for us to fall into the habit of peer pressure, as it were, either through funding, or research opportunities, or even the response of the scientific community as a whole. We always want to shine and show off, to please people, to dazzle them with the latest technological wonder, and we never stop to think that while science tells us we could, we never stop to think if we should. It’s only after the fact, when disaster strikes, that we even think about it, as was Oppenheimer’s case.”

The Norwegian doctor spoke up then, leaning his body over the table, conversationally. “What about this current debate we are having over that ridiculous suit, what is it? Iron Man they call it, that robot suit of Tony Stark’s. I get it, he developed it in a horrible situation, he was captured by terrorists. I mean, I don’t know what I would do if I were in his situation. Lay down and cry, maybe? But he was genius enough to make something that in the moment seemed good, a suit that could defeat the bad guys and get him out of there. But now, now people are asking real questions of what to do with something that powerful. Stark says he wants to destroy all these weapons, not to make weapons anymore, but he is now a weapon himself. He controls the weapon, and who else does? I mean, that brings up a whole other level of ethical debate about science and research, particularly with governments. Are large organizations like the US government really the most appropriate groups to hold on to those sorts of weapons, knowing the destruction they have caused when they either received or taken that sort of research? Should we trust them in the hands of a chosen few?”

“Yes, but what constitutes a ‘chosen few’? How do we determine if they are fit to oversee a weapon,” the Indian doctor shot back.

The Norweigian panel member was not swayed. “And we would leave it to a military who would weaponise everything they get their hands on, if not lie about it, steal it, and pretend the research never existed?”

A gentleman in the audience stood up just as the things looked to be getting heated and took to the stage. Tall and balding, he smiled beneficently through his beard at the panel, then at the audience. “Ladies and gentleman, the time is now nearly up with our guests. I thank you all for attending this session and invite all of you to continue to attend our breakout sessions throughout the day, I know there are some great ones. If you could, please show your appreciation for Dr. Bertram Kulkarni, Dr. Elizabeth Ross, and Dr. Erik Selvig. We thank you all for participating today.”

General applause from the crowd was met by them with polite smiles before the crowd began to disperse. Murmurs filled the hall as the guests themselves rose, slowly, from the table, shaking hands and gathering things. Dr. Ross lingered to chat with the Norweigian scholar, the two of them sharing what looked to be a sad conversation as Peggy came to the side of the stage, politely out of the way.

“Are you waiting for someone?” The host paused as he climbed down the steps, curious.

Peggy nodded towards Dr. Ross. “I have a meeting with Dr. Ross after this.”

“Ahh!” Smiling, he called across to the pair. “Dr. Ross, someone here for you?”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened as she regarded Peggy’s polite wave of hello. “Oh, yeah, sorry, just...got caught up with chatting with Erik. Are you Director Carter?”

“I am,” she confirmed as the pair wandered over, Dr. Ross more directly, Dr. Selvig trailing behind. “I don’t want to rush you in your conversation.”

“It’s not a problem, we were just...connecting on an old, mutual friend.” Dr. Ross shared a sad, knowing look with the other man. “Have you met Dr. Selvig?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” Peggy stuck out a hand to the man. “Peggy Carter, I’m with SHIELD.”

Her name, blessedly, had no meaning to him. “Erik Selvig, I teach at Culver with Dr. Ross here.”

“He is in astrophysics, not Cellular biology, but you know, we always keep overlapping in work.”

“I found your talk to be interesting, both of you. Dr. Selvig, I must admit I was very interested in your perspectives, given that my agency is very interested in Tony Stark and his predicament.”

His wry snort was just shy of somewhat insulting. “I’m not surprised, or I should say I’m only surprised it took SHIELD this long.”

Peggy sensed that SHIELD was not a good thing to this Dr. Selvig. “You disapprove of us stepping into this debate.”

“No, I think that SHIELD is no better than the military is, for all you say otherwise.”

“Erik,” Dr. Ross hissed, flushing in embarrassment. That did quell the older gentleman, who conceded to her embarrassed reproach.

“Ahh, Betty, I know. This is a horrible spot all around for you to be in. Just wish you weren’t.” He gallantly patted her arm. “Anyway, I’m around and about this evening if you wish to have dinner before I fly out to New Mexico. Jane’s up to something else mad, so I’m going to see how she’s doing.”

Dr. Ross seemed cheered by that. “I’ll call you later, let you know how I feel.”

He departed with an understanding smile for her, and for Peggy, an apologetic one. “I’m sorry for sounding a bit reactionary. SHIELD and I have not always had the best relationship.”

“No offense taken,” she assured. “Perhaps, in future, we can discuss between the two of us us and foster a better opinion.”

“I doubt it, but perhaps I will take you up on that offer. Ladies, enjoy your coffee.”

He wandered down the stairs towards the exit, meeting up with Dr. Kulkarni as he did so, the two chatting as they left Peggy and Dr. Ross alone. Peggy turned to the other woman speculatively. “Where would you like to meet?”

She glanced at her watch. “It's lunchtime. Would you mind if we got a quick bite? I’m starving.”

“Not at all,” Peggy waited for Dr. Ross to lead the way before following alongside. “I’m so glad you were willing to meet with me.”

“I wanted to get the whole story.” She wandered through the auditorium and outside again, seemingly aware of where she was going. “Your office is interested in my work for the Army? Why? Because if you are thinking of recruiting me…”

“Not in the slightest,” Peggy assured the woman as they walked. “No offense to you and your clear skills, but SHIELD isn’t interested in reviving the serum program.”

That seemed to be a clear relief to the woman, who slowed her walk somewhat in her relief. “Good, because I never want to touch that again.”

“Can you at least tell me how this all started,” Peggy gently prompted.

Dr. Ross frowned, considered for a long moment, perhaps deciding what and how much to tell Peggy, then nodded as she pointed down a path that led towards 110th street. “You like burgers?”

“I do.” Peggy confessed, her own stomach rumbling. It was clearly feeling a little neglected. “You know a place?”

“Yeah, a sport’s bar, trendy and hip, but you build your own burger, and I need that and a beer if we are going to continue this conversation.”

“Fair,” Peggy chuckled as she followed beside. “Is it that hard?”

Dr. Ross was silent for a long moment, her lovely face solemn as she marched along, pensieve. “It’s enough that I haven’t spoken to my father since it happened.”

Peggy hadn’t heard that part of the events. “I’m sorry!”

She laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “Don’t be. I’m assuming if you are here to talk to me, you’ve met the old general.”

“Several times, actually.”

“Then you know why we aren’t speaking.”

Peggy shrugged, though she could take a wild guess. “How did your father bring you onto the project?”

“A guilt trip,” she muttered with sullen ruefulness. “The way my father does anything, emotional manipulation.”

Her startling blue eyes cut over to Peggy with a hint of apology. “I’m going to apologize right now, Director Carter, because this conversation is going to be a lot of family drama you probably don’t care about in all of this.”

“I’m no stranger to family drama,” she returned, honestly, thinking of her own recent situation with her nephew, Harrison, Sharon’s father.

It mollified Dr. Ross, who continued again after a fortifying breath. “So, my mother died when I was a young teenager.”

“I’m sorry,” Peggy responded, softly. She was aware of that, at least from her father’s perspective, but he had not offered it as readily as Dr. Ross did.

“It’s all right. It was cancer, which is a hard disease for anyone to watch a loved one go through. Dad...I get it, he loved Mom a lot, but you know, I think he deluded himself a bit in the treatment, thinking it would fix her, that it would save her. Sometimes, it does. Sometimes, it doesn’t. This time, it didn’t. I don’t know if he ever accepted that.”

A hint of empathy for the impossible man took root in Peggy, much to her chagrin. “That had to be hard for both of you.”

She shrugged. “I won’t say it wasn’t. I sort of...shut down, I guess. He did what any soldier does, he put on a stiff upper lip, threw himself into work, and tried to forget. Problem was that in doing that, he forgot about me, too. Here I was, this kid who just lost her mother and all I needed was my Dad and he couldn’t be found. I was an emotional wreck and he was out trying to build super weapons for the US Army.”

One didn’t need to dig too deep to hear the bitterness in Dr. Ross’ voice. That was a wound that clearly hadn’t healed. “Is that why you went into cellular biology? Because of your mother?”

Dr. Ross shrugged her shoulders, not surprised by Peggy making that connection. “I guess...probably, if you dug down into it, but I haven’t so much. I mean, sure, I hoped to find the cure for cancer, like every other researcher on the planet.”

“What did your father think of that?”

“He was..indifferent.” he pursed her lips as they came to a main street, finally, on their hike across campus. She pointed to the right and their destination. “I mean, he cared, don’t get me wrong. He made all the appropriate noises about being proud and what not, but after I left Harvard it was mostly a Christmas card and occasional phone call type of relationship.”

“Until he reached out about this project?”

“It started out with my interest, first,” she admitted as they waited for a light at the crosswalk. “The prospectus for the research hit my desk. It looked promising, research into the effects of radiation on patients and finding a means to provide a cellular shield, a means of protecting the body against the attack. There had been work done over the years, and I thought it was interesting. Then I found out who it was for and dropped it, but not before I had submitted my name for the committee. Of course, they saw Elizabeth Ross and sent that straight up to Dad, who used it as an excuse to reach out. He essentially gave me a whole song and dance about how he was heading up this research team for an anti-terrorism unit, and how he did it because he didn’t want people hurt like Mom was hurt, and he hoped I would consider it anyway as perhaps it would be a way the two of us could find some answers, help people in a way we couldn’t help Mom.”

She broke off, a bit sadly and wetly, stopping short as they came up in front of the restaurant, eyes misty. “You know, for half a minute there, I actually believed him. I really believed that he was doing this all because he missed Mom, because he wanted to help people, maybe find a means to keep them safe. I should have known better.”

It was a statement that caught Peggy short with its bitterness and anger. She fumbled, trying to find what to say in the moment. “I’m sorry. I know something of what’s that like, having someone come to you and play on your emotions in order to get you to do what they want, only to let you down.”

“Your own father, though?”

“No,” Peggy conceded, unable to admit it had been Howard Stark who had done the deed. “But I do know what it feels like.”

Dr. Ross nodded, breaking apologetically as she held open the door. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...it’s family business and here I am sticking you right in the middle of it.”

“Sometimes there isn’t much difference in situations like this.”

They entered into the dim restaurant, surprisingly empty in the middle of a Saturday. Peggy supposed it just was noon, as a greeter led them to their table, a booth along one wall. They slid in, accepting the laminated menus as Dr. Ross happily flipped hers open. Peggy said nothing as she chose the menu items she wanted, waiting for the other woman to get comfortable again to speak. It apparently wasn’t till their server came to take their orders that she returned to the subject at hand.

“So, yes, anyway, Dad came to me when he saw I had interest in the project and I was dumb enough to say yes. Worse, I was also dumb enough to involve a colleague of mine in the research.”

“Bruce Banner,” Peggy said simply, the other woman looking stricken for a long moment, then nodding.

“So do you know the particulars of what happened?”

“I know the broad strokes, nothing more.”

Dr. Ross nodded, sipping from her cup of water, fortifying herself. “Right, that’s why you’re talking to me.”

“Well, that, and to understand what even happened. Your father is...less than forthcoming on the subject.”

“He would be,” she muttered, somewhat bitterly as the server returned with a golden beer for Dr. Ross.

“Thank you,” she replied, sipping from the pint before continuing. “He wasn’t thrilled I brought Bruce on. I mean, there was the usual conflict of Bruce and I and our relationship. But you know they had both put it aside and seemed to be professional about it.”

“Why wasn’t he thrilled about Dr. Banner’s role in the research?”

“Because Bruce didn’t play by Dad’s rules.” She shrugged, running a finger along the edge of her pint. “Honestly, Bruce was the best person to bring on board. He was...is brilliant, so scary smart. I brought him on because he had the background in both physics - especially the nuclear side of it - and biochemistry. That was the heart of what we were getting at. And we always worked well together, the two of us. Honestly, he was part of the reason I had the breakthrough on the myostatic primer.”

“The what?”

“The myostatic primer,” Dr. Ross repeated, seeing quickly Peggy wasn’t following. “So, we were told that we were creating a serum to treat radiation sickness. That was how we approached the problem, that this serum had to be able to ‘fix’ whatever it was that radiation destroyed - to rebuild cellular structure degraded by a potential gamma radiation fallout from a nuclear attack. The problem with the serum was, as we saw it, that it didn’t protect against the effects at all, only promoted accelerated cellular regeneration and growth, so it could make you heal more quickly, make you stronger, but not prevent your cellular structure from being damaged permanently. So, Bruce suggested maybe a type of shield around the cells, a primer which would temporarily absorb gamma radiation. The idea was that it would eventually be broken down harmlessly in the body and be excreted out, and if there was any damage from the ambient gamma radiation that the serum could correct it quickly and everyone would be good as new. A few treatments and you would be done!”

She laughed, shyly, shaking her dark head as if amused by her own youthful naivete. “That was the idea, anyway. We thought we were changing the world, not just preventing terrorist attacks. If we could figure out how to apply it in different ways, maybe even find cures for things like cancer. Bruce thought this would change everything.”

No sooner did she say that then their food arrived, now suddenly looking too heavy and tasteless to bother eating. Dr. Ross’ sadness tugged at Peggy’s heart and the memories of the many, many arguments that were had about the serum between Erskine, Phillips, Howard and herself. Despite the newsreels and even the federal government's propaganda on the subject, it hadn’t been an easy decision to use the serum at all, not after the disaster that happened to Schmidt. Unfortunately for Dr. Ross and for Banner, they hadn’t gone into the experiments with all the knowledge of what the serum alone could do. Peggy had no idea what the added variable of the primer did to the equation or how it caused Dr. Banner to change from a normal man to a hulking behemoth.

They were several moments into their food before Peggy picked up the threads of their conversation again. “The accident with Dr. Banner, what happened that day?”

Dr. Ross chewed for long, thoughtful moments, setting aside her sandwich before wiping her hands and reaching for her beer. She took a sip before answering. “We were under a lot of pressure. I think Bruce in particular felt it. This was a big deal. If it worked, then that meant publication and a lot of attention from the science community. But most of the pressure came from Dad. He had committed to getting results, and we didn’t realize just how many promises he made or how soon that we would need to meet them. He came down on us, mostly Bruce, and so Bruce pushed the limit.”

“Did your relationship with Dr. Banner have anything to do with your father’s pressure for completion?”

She looked thoughtful, neither completely sure or unsure. “I can’t say one way or the other. Dad was never happy about Bruce and I, mostly I think because I had stopped talking to him when Bruce came into my life, and now there is this whole other man there, and he was a scientist like me, and he was in my life in a way my father wasn’t. Bruce...I won’t lie, I think Dad intimidated him just a bit. I know things with his own father weren’t great and I know he wanted to impress Dad. And, you know, maybe I was trying to walk too carefully between them, not calling either of them out enough on the behavior. I can’t say. I just know that Dad lost his temper about a deadline for human trials and started ranting at the team, and Bruce just up and said he’d do it, he’d take the test for the team. I told him that was insane, that didn’t even follow proper procedure, there was no way the test results would be publishable let alone valid, but I think he felt he had to prove it to my father. So next thing I know he’s strapping himself into the machine we used to emit controlled amounts of gamma radiation, injecting himself with the primer and serum, and then...all hell broke loose.”

That part Peggy knew, how Banner turned into something else and had killed two scientists and an army officer by accident and had injured both Ross and his daughter. In the process, he had utterly destroyed the lab. “What happened with Banner then?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, softly, tears shimmering as her fingers tightened on her glass.“He disappeared after that. When I woke up, he was gone. I tried looking for him, but by that point the Army had shut everything down. I was furious. I confronted Dad on it. I mean, years of my life, our lives, all gone, after everything that happened. So, I stormed into his office and demanded answers. I may have deliberately pushed some buttons as well. It was only then that he admitted that all that work, everything we did, was a lie. That’s when he told me that the entire project was created with the sole purpose of recreating Abraham Erskine’s serum, that the Army wanted a weapon they could use in the war on terror. And I...lost my shit then, about the lies, the manipulation, the way he pushed us, the fact he wouldn’t even tell me what happened to Bruce. I said a lot of ugly things that day, and you know what, I’m not sorry that I did.”

Even now, years later, she looked supremely satisfied at the fact that she had said them. After Peggy’s own run ins with the man, she couldn’t blame his daughter. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

“Not even at Christmas,” she shrugged, picking up a fry to nibble on briefly. “I cut him out of my life.”

Not that Peggy could blame her. “And as for Dr. Banner?”

“I don’t know,” she said, emphatically, eyeing Peggy pointedly. “The one thing I did believe my father on was that Bruce was alive out there, somewhere, that he escaped and was a fugitive. I would like to believe he is out there, safe and free from all of this.”

Peggy guessed that poor Dr. Ross had no idea that her father was currently looking for Banner and that he had been this whole time. “Dr. Banner hasn’t reached out to you?”

“No,” she reiterated, with a little more heat than she had employed throughout the rest of the conversation. “And if he had, I don’t know that I would tell you.”

“Fair,” Peggy acceded. “I can’t imagine organizations like mine are trustworthy to you.”

Dr. Ross shrugged, eyeing her pointedly.

“But I can assure you, Dr. Ross, I’m not here to capture Dr. Banner or hurt him. If anything, I want to help him.”

“Help him how?”

Peggy pursed her lips, trying to decide how to dance around this. “I think I have a group he could work with, if he chose, that would be a place he could direct both his mind and his talents to. but it would be up to him to decide.”

She nodded, considering for a long moment. “Why?”

“Why am I doing it, or why do we want to bring him on?”

“Both?”

That was a fair question. “I’m doing it because I fear there will be a time in the near future where we may need him very badly. But I also want to bring him under the SHIELD auspices. My hope is that by doing that the Army - your father - would leave him in peace. It would give him a place to be and protection, resources to help, if he needs it. He wouldn’t have to be alone.”

She nodded, her nails tapping her glass. “Have you seen the tapes of the test? The footage of it?”

“Yes,” Peggy replied, bluntly, figuring she may as well not beat around the bush. She had seen the destruction.

“Then you know why Bruce is hiding,” Dr. Ross said, simply. “What he did….I’ve known Bruce since we were kids, back in Harvard. He was one of those students protesting against bombs and wars. I remember he dragged me to a protest against the first Iraq War, knowing who my father was. He was never a soldier, never wanted to be one. He only did this research because I asked and because he thought he was helping people. He didn’t want to make another Steve Rogers, he wanted to keep people safe. The very idea that he could hurt people, kill people, by what he’s become, he would never want that. I can’t tell you where he is, Director Carter, but even if I couldn’t, I don’t know that I would, not unless it was to keep him safe or keep others safe.”

“It may come to that,” Peggy replied, honestly.

“It might. Till then, wherever he is, I hope he is all right.”

Peggy sighed. She would get nowhere finding Banner on this front. “The other matter I wished to discuss with you was regarding the research on the super soldier serum you all did conduct. I don’t know if you are aware that Abraham Erskine’s serum, all the tests, results, and future research, all fall under the auspices of SHIELD, not the US Army.”

That did catch the scientist by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“That your father had no right to run the experiments he did. SHIELD was formed out of the old Strategic Scientific Reserve, a branch of the Army during World War II. When the Department of Defense realigned itself after the war, the SSR was spun off into SHIELD, chartered through the UN. Part of the UN agreement was that all research that had been done by the SSR would now become SHIELD’s. That included all the files from Project: Rebirth, the ones that involved the creation of that serum.”

A muscle twitched in Dr. Ross’s cheek, nearly identical to the same sort of facial tic her father had when his temper rose. “If that is the case, then how…”

“Clearly, the Army didn’t give over all their files. Likely, they were working on it for years, off and on, under the radar. When the attacks in 2001 happened, your father was able to get funding for it due to the heightened concern and perceived need for a renewal of the super soldier program. He couldn’t come out and admit it publicly, so he hid it under the guise of an anti-terrorist unit.”

“Of course he did,” Dr. Ross hissed, pushing her plate away, her food only half eaten. “Why should I expect less of him?”

Peggy hated to make an already toxic situation worse, but she supposed Ross had brought this on himself. “When SHIELD discovered he had meddled with Erskine’s serum again, they asked for the files. Your father stalled, said they were destroyed by Dr. Banner in his rampage. When I approached him about them, he gave me the same answer.”

Dr. Ross clearly got what Peggy was getting at, her eyes narrowing. “You want to know if my father is lying about that, too?”

“No offense, Dr. Ross, your father seems to lie as often as he breathes.”

Her eye roll and soft chuff took the tension out from between them as she sagged slightly. “That he does. The truth is that Bruce didn’t destroy it. Dad did. He ordered that all the files be wiped. I was still recovering when most of this happened, so I didn’t even get a say in it.”

That was what Peggy had feared. “That’s unfortunate, Dr. Ross. I had hoped if we found it, we might be able to help Dr. Banner out.”

She looked wistful at the idea. “If he’s out there somewhere, I would do what I could to help him. Honestly, however, I don’t know that he’s even alive. He just...disappeared.”

Peggy had to believe she was telling the truth. No one could possibly look that sad and heartbroken and not be telling the truth. “Well, if you do find or hear of anything, run across anything, I would like to hear about it. I’m not your father. I can do what I can to help.”

The other woman nodded, shooting Peggy a brief, tight smile. “I hope you are. Look, I know Erik back there, he said some things. He has reason to distrust the government, not that I have any reason to trust you myself. But if there is a way to make any of this right, I’d like to think someone would do the right thing.”

“Me too,” she replied as their server returned with an expectant smile. “Could we get the check?”

They finished a few more bites of food, though neither seemed to be terribly hungry anymore. The bill was produced and Peggy paid for it, waiving off Dr. Ross’ efforts to cover her bill. “It was the least I could do for forcing myself on you at a conference.”

She accepted that graciously. “You caught me at the right time, I just happened to be up here. I don’t get up to New York often, it’s just too crazy. The drivers alone scare the living shi….”

She paused, drifting off, frowning at something beyond Peggy’s shoulder that had clearly caught her eye. Peggy frowned, glancing back, seeing only other diners and nothing unusual at that. “What is it?”

“Is that just me, or is that Tony Stark in a racing suit being attacked by a guy with electric whips?”

“What?” Peggy turned full attention to the bar area of the restaurant. Just like every other restaurant of this sort in this modern age, they all had televisions screens, large, flat ones that lay against the walls, usually playing some combination of modern sports. Several of them were tuned to some sort of news program for sports, all playing a clip of what very much looked like none other than Tony Stark at some racing event, the debris of cars scattered around him, being attacked by a heavily tattooed man with electric whips.

“Crikey O’Reilly,” she breathed, softly, looking for the server, who was bustling over with her card and the check. Peggy slipped the card into her wallet quickly, scribbling her name at the bottom of the receipt, grabbing her purse and her phone.”

“Is everything all right?” Dr. Ross watched her in confusion.

“I don’t know,” Peggy admitted, noticing now her phone, which she had turned off before going into the auditorium. It had blown up with messages, primarily from Cassandra asking her to call as soon as she could. Swearing, she glanced up at the television where Stark had at some point put on his armor, taking down the suspect, but not before sustaining heavy damage.

“Does he just carry that around with him now,” Dr. Ross wondered, not understanding that Stark was the cause of Peggy’s panic at the moment.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, the damned idiot,” Peggy groused, scooting out of her seat. “I do apologize for this, Dr. Ross, I will have to go. As it turns out, this is a situation under my purview and I have to see what Tony Stark has done now.”

“Really?” The other woman arched a delicate eyebrow up at her. “You handle Tony Stark as well?”

“Handle is not the word I’d use for it.” Peggy nodded her head to the screen, where they were replaying the situation again. “But, much like your friend, Dr. Banner, I am trying to help Mr. Stark in a sticky situation he is in. Unfortunately, he makes it rather difficult.”

“I can imagine,” she responded, with just a hint of understanding. “I met him at a college party once. I doubt he remembers it, but he left quite the impression. He ruined a brand new pair of shoes by vomiting homemade Everclear and grape juice all over them.”

Peggy heartily wished that was the worst of Tony Stark’s crimes now. “My apologies, Dr. Ross. It was a pleasure speaking with you.” She passed her business card over the table. “If you hear anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

She left the other woman to watch the footage of Tony Stark at the Monte Carlo Grand Prix, only pausing briefly to acknowledge the server’s cheerful goodbye as she dialed Cassandra. The other woman picked up in one ring. 

Peggy got right to her point. “Tell me what happened.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Romanoff breaks it to Peggy that things are worse than they thought.

For the first time since she had met the unflappable Natasha Romanoff, Peggy saw her somewhat rattled.

“Honestly, I don’t know what happened,” she admitted, her long, dark red hair pulled up messily on top of her head, one of the few moments she was ever dressed down. She had returned back from Monaco on Stark’s private jet and apparently had been allowed to take the rest of the day off by a grateful Stark, who clearly felt badly she had somehow gotten dragged into the chaos he created.

“How could he just walk up and take control of a race car like that,” Peggy marveled, less upset with Romanoff and more stunned by the fact it even happened.

“The same way Stark does anything in his life, he flashes some money at someone and just does it. Since the car was sponsored by him, he said he had a right, I guess. I don’t know how he conned anyone into it.”

Tony Stark would be the death of her, Peggy privately groused.

Still somewhat dazed, Romanoff continued. “One moment he’s in the hotel lounge with Potts, chatting up with Justin Hammer and the _Vanity Fair_ reporter Stark is so fond of, and the next he disappeared. I was busy settling Potts and running a security sweep when he slipped out.”

“And Potts didn’t say anything when he just vanished?”

“It’s Tony Stark, for all she knew he was busy chatting up someone, a reasonable assumption under the circumstances.”

Peggy tugged at her hair in frustration, throwing herself against her couch cushions. “He could have gotten himself killed.”

“Well, thankfully, Stark is clearly an amazing driver. Unfortunately for him, he had a psychopath walk in front of his car.”

The footage of that had been shown and re-shown on every news channel, sports channel, and website, and had appeared on every paper in the country as one of their lead photos. There stood Iron-Man, battered and shaken, against a man in nothing more than a tattered, orange jumpsuit and a strange contraption of a vested, attached to a jury-rigged pair of electrical whips powered by an arc reactor strapped to his bare, tattooed chest. Already, Senator Stern was all over the media circuit screaming about the danger of this technology and needing to control it - as if the US holding on to it would stop other people from developing it - while rumbles were amassing from the Pentagon about taking Stark’s suit away from him by force. At this rate, Peggy wasn’t going to be able to do much to stop it.

“Who is the man who attacked him?”

Romanoff typed briefly on her keyboard, pulling up information only she could see on the other end. “His name is Ivan Vanko, he’s a Russian national who got into Monaco on a fake passport. He was once a promising scientist in their nuclear program, but when the Soviet Union fell, everyone hit on hard times. He did what a lot of people did, sold what he could for money. In his case, it was Soviet-era weapons grade uranium to Pakistan, which if you didn’t hear about them in your 20th century history recap, they don’t like India that much. The idea of Pakistan having nuclear weapons that they could just indiscriminately drop on India’s heads makes a lot of people nervous, so when the Russian’s found out they arrested him and sent him to prison for 15 years. That explains his interesting body art.”

“Does it?” Peggy studied a picture of this Vanko curiously from off of the _New York Times_ website.

“The tattoos are a symbolic language, they all mean something in prison life. US prisoners do it too, but I have to admit my people got very creative with it.”

“So he’s what, free from prison and wanting to attack Tony Stark? For what purpose?”

“I’m guessing it has to do with his father, Anton Vanko.”

That was a name Peggy absolutely recognized. “His father was Anton Vanko? The one who worked at Stark Industries?”

That piqued Romanoff’s interest. “You know of him?”

Peggy bit back a spike of irritation at Romanoff’s question. Despite protests to the contrary, Romanoff was still somewhat wary of the truth of Peggy’s identity. Given how mad the story actually was, perhaps she couldn’t blame her. “More than that, I knew him. Anton Vanko worked with Vita-Radiation experiments back then. How is he mixed up in all of this?”

“That gets into some ugly pieces of Howard’s double life,” Romanoff sighed, pulling from a bottle of Mexican beer in her chic apartment in Los Angeles. “Howard was long interested in finding an alternate energy source, for a lot of reasons, no less than his work on the Tesseract. He thought if he could recreate something that could create similar energy, he could use it for a variety of different applications. Rather than do the research in house with SHIELD, though, he did it all through SI, primarily so he could keep the patents on all of it and not have to share with SHIELD, which I suppose is fair. He employed Vanko to help him in his research, and from everything I know, they both equally invested in it. Howard thought it would be the next, major breakthrough in science, something that would benefit mankind. He wanted to invest in using it as an alternative to coal and nuclear energy, make the world less dependent on fossil fuels and thus less prone to fighting over the control of those resources. Vanko was less altruistic, or so the official story goes. He wanted to make a profit off it, selling the reactor to countries who could afford it. They two had a falling out over it, and perhaps things would have ended there, except Vanko was later accused of espionage and the selling of weapons secrets to the USSR. At this point, it gets a bit shady, because Howard was helping to run SHIELD at the time, and the evidence for Vanko selling secrets to the Soviets after he had defected was circumstantial at best. But, Howard had the in with the intelligence circles, so Vanko was arrested and deported. Howard claimed full credit for the Arc Reactor technology. Vanko got shipped back and was sent to Siberia as punishment, where he was told to develop it for the Soviets, but he failed. He fell into poverty and turned into an alcoholic. According to my sources, he died a few months ago. In the end his drinking is what killed him, but not before he filled his son’s head with all the ways that the Starks had done him wrong.”

 _Oh, Howard,_ Peggy mentally sighed. She hadn’t known Dr. Vanko well. He’d been a shy young scientist who Howard had met during the war and recruited to work for him in the years when the US and the Soviet Union were allies, not enemies. How he had gone from the man she remembered to the man Romanoff described was a mystery to her. That Peggy left Howard in an untenable situation when she swanned off to the future with Scott Lang was a fair point, she admitted to this, but she did have to wonder at many of his past decisions, including this one.

“So we have the already disaffected son of a man, who may or may not have been selling secrets to the enemies of this country, out to find revenge on the son of the man he blames for putting him in this horrible situation.”

“Worse, Tony Stark directly benefited from the Arc Reactor technology, which Vanko feels his father stole, so...yeah, it’s about as nasty of a grudge as you can get.”

Peggy rubbed her temples, quietly considering how bad this made the entire Stark situation. “Why would this Vanko make a production like this? Better to work the whole matter behind the scenes, not make his own weapon and deploy it in the middle of a racetrack on the French Riviera?”

“My guess, it was because it was a big stage he knew Stark was going to be at. He made a reactor of his own to show that Stark wasn’t the only one who could do it and make a grand statement about his own claim to it.”

“Or he could have just built one and given it to the Russian government.”

Romanoff shrugged, considering. “I think after his whole stint in prison he isn’t precisely a fan of the Russian government either. He’s a man who is disaffected the whole way round and he is lashing out, literally, to whoever will listen.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Oh, yeah.” Romanoff scrolled through something on her screen. “I mean, he was a fairly brilliant physicist and engineer before he got busted for arms dealing to Pakistan. Add that to the unstable home life he likely had growing up, his own bouts of alcoholism, and deep sense of entitlement and being wronged, and whatever other abuse and stress he faced in one of the nastier prisons in Siberia, and you have a man who is gunning for being one of those comic book super villains they put in all the cheesy movies.”

“Except he’s real enough in our world and he’s going after Tony Stark.”

“Yeah,” Romanoff paused, distractedly, reading something on her end with curiosity. “Oh, hey, something that popped up that may add on to his Tony Stark hate. Apparently the person who tipped off Russian authorities to Vanko’s doings was none other than our old buddy, Obadiah Stane.”

That somehow did not surprise Peggy in the least. “How does he figure into this?”

“My guess, Stane was already in the illegal arms dealing business, especially in that area, and probably passed the information along to the Russians for a price. Probably it was one of those gentlemen's agreements, one that cost Stane nothing, and he likely didn’t think that it was anything more than a disgruntled or down-and-out Russian scientist trying to make a few quick bucks. Remember, by the time he came on the scene at Stark Industries, Vanko had already been deported back to Russia, so he’d have not known him.”

A perfect storm of double-crossed resentment, all coming to roost in the person of one Ivan Vanko. “So he’s in the custody of Monégasque authorities.”

“For now, they are working in concert with Interpol and French authorities on the matter. Not very often a terrorist comes and interrupts one of the biggest racing events of the year for them, and the principality doesn’t have a big agency to handle this sort of thing. For now, he’s in a holding prison until Monégasque authorities can bring him to court.”

“And Stark?”

“Back at home, likely hiding from both the press and representatives of the US government.”

“Did he say anything on the matter?”

“No,” she responded, a frown maring her usual calm. “So, there is a thing with him you should know about. It took me a bit to piece it together, but I’m pretty sure I’m right on it, and it goes a long way to explain a lot of his most recent behavior, particularly with handing over Stark Industries to Pepper Potts.”

Peggy felt her stomach sink at the note of gravity in Romanoff’s voice. “What?”

Romanoff pulled from her beer again as she resettled in the cushions of her sofa. “Stark has this thing with these smoothies he’s constantly drinking, which in and of itself isn’t strange. He happened to have me make one for him the other day, innocuous enough for an assistant, but his had a lot of extra things thrown in, things that are the sort you use if you are a chemotherapy patient or suffering some other sort of poisoning. He’s also been sporting a rather gnarly looking rash, one he’s been hiding away from Potts, but one I happened to catch during what he clearly thought was a discreet clothing change. It’s crawling across his chest from where his reactor is implanted and spreading. My guess, putting two-and-two together, is that the core of his reactor is starting to seep into his bloodstream and cause a reaction.”

That was...horrific.

“What is the core of the Arc Reactor made of?”

“Palladium,” Romanoff supplied, readily. “Which is not dangerous to humans, at least not in small doses. It’s primarily used in all sorts of things, jewelry, catalytic converters in cars, dental work and circuit boards. In small amounts seems to be fine. In larger amounts, though, that’s harder to say, there haven’t been studies done on that. The thing is that the reactor sits right on top of the electromagnet that has been installed in Stark’s chest. I’m no doctor, I’m not sure how it’s leaching through, but it’s clear that it is, and my guess is that the more that Stark uses the reactor, especially to power his suit, the more palladium gets burned up in the reactor, with the byproduct getting absorbed into his body. He’s been in that suit nearly non-stop since last fall, and the more he uses it, the worse the situation gets. He’s not saying it, but Stark’s been burning through palladium cores like they were going out of style. The more he goes through, the more gets dumped into his body, and while the metal itself isn’t necessarily toxic, you get enough of anything like that into the human bloodstream and it won’t be able to filter it out.”

“And thus everything begins to shut down.” Peggy was no doctor, but she understood that much of the situation. “Which means he’s slowly poisoning himself to death.”

Romanoff was grave as she regarded Peggy through their video connection. “A hell of a way to go. Stark is a pompous ass, but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Neither would Peggy. The very idea of what it was doing left her feeling cold, all the more so because this was Tony Stark, a man she had been trying very much to save. “Is there a treatment for it out there?”

“I already ran it to Biomedical as soon as I put the pieces together. They are working on something they think might take the edge off of it, a treatment they have used with other sorts of metal poisoning. Palladium has the advantage of not being as toxic as many others, so the hope is this will be a relatively quick fix to hold him over, but he can’t do it forever. He’s going to need a different metal to use in the core if he’s going to keep that thing in his chest full time. Frankly, if I were him, I’d have it removed already, but I don’t know the particulars on his injury and just how delicate it is. Till then, he’s going to have to find something because he can’t keep being Iron Man and expect to live a long, healthy life.”

The unspoken question of course being did he want to live a long, healthy life? Considering Stark’s lifestyle choices before he was kidnapped in the Afghani desert, one had to wonder. He had always been the “living fast” sort. However, Peggy rejected the notion he lived simply to burn himself up. He wouldn’t have fought so hard to survive his captivity if he simply wanted to throw it away as soon as he had his freedom.

“So how long does the Biomedical team think it will take to get something?”

“Shouldn’t be terribly long. The trick will be administering it in a fashion that doesn’t overtly draw attention to myself, which won’t be easy, but I will think of something.”

“A hidden needle palmed somewhere, then?” Peggy had perhaps used that trick a time or several herself.

“I’ve always wanted to use the needle hidden in the tip of the umbrella trick. Felt very 1960’s retro.”

The idea the 1960s would be nostalgic for anyone, especially as Peggy hadn’t lived through them, was somewhat mind-boggling. It brought up the show that Sharon loved so much, the one Angie had been in. Sighing, wistfully, she moved on. “How is Potts settling in as CEO?”

“Fine, as far as I can tell. She doesn’t trust me.” This only served to make Romanoff smile. “She’s not an idiot, clearly. She will do fine at this. Frankly, this should have happened a long time ago.”

“And does she suspect anything with Stark and his condition?”

“That, I don’t know. I doubt it. He’s trying to hide it pretty well, though I think he’s tried to say something. But, when you have the emotional range of a postage stamp, coming out and admitting the truth to someone you care for is difficult.”

Peggy chuckled at Romanoff’s assessment. “So, you’ve noticed that, too? About him and Potts?”

“A blindfolded idiot would notice them. The only people who don’t seem to see it are those two.”

“Do you think it will pose a problem for the future with using him on the Avengers?”

Here, Romanoff was thoughtful. “Stark is far too used to just doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He’s a classic, textbook case of a narcissist, he not only thinks he knows better, he thinks he is the only one who can do it at all. He doesn’t take orders because there isn’t a scenario that he can’t rationalize himself around, if he wants to, and he’s so caught up in his own thoughts, feelings, and ideas he rarely has time for the worries and opinions of anyone else. If anything, I see Potts as a positive influence on him in terms of the Avengers, she forces him to actually think and consider others before he goes off on his hare-brained schemes. That said, it’s not going to happen overnight, and that is who he is right now, so I would ask you if you think that his lone gunman tendencies are really something you want to try and wrestle onto a team with the likes of Steve Rogers.”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Peggy had pursued this only knowing that Steve and Tony were on the team, not the particulars of how they would work together. She hadn’t even known Tony when she landed in this century, only that he was Howard’s son. She had assumed that in the interest of global security and an impending threat that of course the two of them would come together to unite towards a common cause. Perhaps if the threat was imminent, say a war, they might. But the more she got to see the personality of Tony Stark, the more she had to listen to the very real question Romanoff was asking. He was not someone who liked to play with anyone else or by anyone’s rules. How would he take being on a team the likes of Steve Rogers, a man who was by his very nature a leader?

“We don’t know the threat coming at us,” Peggy responded, knowing it wasn’t a good answer, but it was an honest one. “Stark, his suit, and his talents may play a key role in all of this. If he can’t be parted from the suit, then I will need them both.”

Romanoff didn’t look as convinced that this was a good idea. “He’s got a birthday party coming up this next weekend at his Malibu mansion, a big house party, lots of the usual crowd around one of these Stark events. It will have a DJ and everything.”

Considering the many tales Cassandra had told Peggy of Stark’s misspent youth, combined with the various tabloid headlines she’d read about him from over the years, she could well guess the source of Romanoff’s dry sarcasm and just what sort of party this likely promised to be. “Will you be there?”

“To wait on his every beck and call.”

Peggy could empathize with Romanoff’s position. “Keep an eye on him at the event. I’ve read the stories of some of his more colorful soirees over the years, and given the Monte Carlo business over the weekend and the ground swell of outcry against him because of it, any further incidents will only make matters worse. I know the idea of you on his detail was to push him, but just make sure he doesn’t do anything outrageously stupid while he’s drinking like a fish and making a fool of himself.”

“I can guarantee nothing, but I will do my best.”

“Thank you,” Peggy sighed. “I’ll be continuing to run the Banner detail, so if it gets too insane, call me.”

“You’ll be my second call.”

“After Fury, of course.” Peggy had no doubt about that.

Romanoff didn’t even bother being apologetic about it. “I’ll keep you posted.”

With that, she signed off the video conference as Peggy wondered just what in the hell had possessed Stark. To get behind a wheel of a race car like that, to flaunt everything when the US military establishment was against him, risking everything to have the thrill of having every eye in the world turned on him once again. It made her crazy! Perhaps, a small, logical part of her brain argued, he was doing this as a reaction to and out of fear of his own impending demise due to palladium poisoning. But if Romanoff was correct, it was a poisoning he could easily prevent from happening if he simply stopped using his suit as much and found a different metal for the reactor core.

Which then hit at another problem...why was he using his suit as much and what was in it for him? Certainly, since he announced to the world months before he was Iron Man he had embraced his new identity with zeal, as the Senate hearing showed. He was off anywhere he was asked to go by the Army, and often to situations in which he wasn’t, and he enjoyed his moment in the sun as a hero. Was that moment of brilliance worth the cost it tore out of him? Frankly, Peggy had been through enough of heroes throwing their lives away in the act of being heroic. She rather wished they would stop. 

That said, given Stark’s love of all things dangerous, not to mention his track record with alcoholism and recreational drugs, addiction was a real thing with him. Perhaps this wasn’t so different. She of all people knew there was a certain satisfaction in being the person to save the day. Why else had she come there to the future? Perhaps for Stark it wasn’t so different. After all, why else would he continue to do something he knew was killing him? It was beyond all sense and reason. He could just stop, monitor his levels, and live a long life. Instead, he chose to flood his system because doing otherwise would mean he would have to give up being Iron Man. If all it took was for him to find another metal to use for his reactor, why hadn’t he done it yet?

Finding nothing but questions and dead ends, she turned her thoughts to this Ivan Vanko instead. Clicking on the article once more, she studied the picture of Anton Vanko’s son. If you had told her the brawny, whip-belting man was the son of the scientist she met years ago, Peggy wouldn’t have believed it. Everything about Ivan was strange, a hoodlum who could apparently have the same genius knowledge Stark had and could do what he did. This begged the question on why the Russian government hadn’t snapped Vanko up. Did they even know? And why weren’t they smuggling him out as fast as they could to make him the next Iron Man?

Peggy sighed, pushing away her screen, rubbing her eyes. If it wasn’t Ross and his idiots making matters worse in Brazil, it was Stark being pursued by the ghosts of his father’s past. As it stood, she had one potential member of the Avengers lost somewhere in the wilds of South America, his whereabouts unknown, and another dying of metal poisoning unless they could find a permanent solution for his reactor problem. The third one was still on ice somewhere, unable to be found due to budget considerations and funding cuts. How was she supposed to form a cohesive group out of any of this?

“Why in the hell did I ever listen to Lang,” she sighed, morosely, thinking that she needed a bottle of wine, a hot bath, and good night's sleep, and hope against hope that somehow this would all not get any worse.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy's girl's night is interrupted by a party.

On the screen, things looked grim for the kindly, if bumbling, butler, Edward Jeeves, especially tied up as he was. Bound and gagged, he sat in a railway car filled with explosives as the evil henchman of WALE outlined their dark plan to cause an explosion underneath the halls of the United States Congress during a joint sessions, wiping out out all of them and furthering their plans for global domination. Meanwhile, high above the fabulously beautiful Agent Rita Knight listened, taking note of every one of their diabolical ideas, as she waited for her opportunity to free Mr. Jeeves from their clutches and save the day before terror and destruction could be wrought. She waited, pulling a silvery, slim gun from somewhere inside her clingy suit, preparing to pounce.

“Why does the plot of this episode sound like Guy Fawkes Day?” Peggy crunched on a kernel of popcorn, ignoring the dirty look she knew Sharon was sending her in the dark.

“That is the exact question I had watching this.” Ashley Carter, Sharon’s younger sister and one of Peggy’s other nieces, muttered in a non-so-quite _sotto voce_. “Besides, is there even a rail line under the US Capitol?”

“I don’t believe so, else someone would have tried this insane scheme ages ago.”

“Well, there is supposedly hidden treasure somewhere in there...or is it the national archive?”

Sharon displayed her exceptionally good aim by launching a piece of candy that landed squarely in the middle of her sister’s head. “Shhh, quit ruining my fun.”

“There is a reason this show only got two seasons,” her sister retorted. “I mean, with this kind of logic…”

“I’m in it for Rita Knight, not for the storytelling.”

Peggy let the sisters bicker, returning to her popcorn. They were now several episodes into what Sharon called their “binge watch," which as far as Peggy could tell was simply a marathon session of watching anything. That she had walked into the show apprehensive was an understatement, having no idea what a “60’s spy vibe” was. It was the only descriptive either Sharon, or the internet, could give her. Thus far, the only thing she could tell was that it reminded her very much of the old _Captain America Adventure Program_ , the bane of her existence for several years. It was as if someone had taken her own life and adventures from her years in the SSR and early SHIELD, thrown them in a blender, mixed them up and poured them into this show. Logic, reason, story - even the mystery itself, if she were honest - none of that mattered in the grand spectacle of Rita Knight, the gorgeous agent, swooping in at the last minute to use her intellect, capabilities, and appeal to save the day, and usually the male protagonists in the series who had made a wrong turn in their logic. Each episode ended with some cheeky exchange between Rita Knight and the head of the agency in which he would berate her for how someone else mucked it all up before she cleverly and cuttingly pointed out how they could never manage without her.

It was schlock, and yet, compared to Betty Carver, the triage nurse, it was high end schlock. And what was more, Angie looked...well, amazing! She made Rita Knight into everything Peggy wasn’t in real life - poised, sophisticated, elegant, and, dare she say it, even sexy? Was that a word she could use? Certainly, attractive was a word that she could describe the character as. Peggy knew that this show was dated even by modern standards, being already forty years old and showing its age in its clothes, music, and ambiance. But even then it was hard not to miss how attractive the character was, how powerful and capable, how confident she was in dealing with others. No wonder Sharon was in awe of this character.

Was this really how Angie - or whoever wrote this show - saw Peggy?

And as for Angie, clearly her skills as an actress had grown exponentially in the years since Peggy had last seen her. Admittedly, she was still rather new to the field of acting and the stage and had potential to grow, but there were moments when even Peggy would cringe. Never in front of Angie’s face, mind, she knew better than to do that, but she could hide a wince well when things didn’t land, and with Angie it sometimes didn’t. But that had been twenty years before she accepted the role of Rita Knight, the British superspy, and the poise and polish she displayed was astonishing. Even her accent was spot on, which amazed Peggy, as she rarely ever heard an American affect her specific accent correctly. They always assumed she sounded somewhere between a Cockney cab driver and a posh member of the royal family, with the effect of sounding like a gross parody of both. Clearly, the woman Peggy remembered from their young days of barely making ends meet in New York had blossomed into an actress of unique skill and charm and capabilities, and Peggy was achingly sad to have missed all of that.

The episode ended with Rita Knight saving the day of the inventor Harry Wolf’s butler, Jeeves, and returning the dangerous and brilliant weapon Wolf had created to him, before having to deal with the snide remarks on the part of the chief, as per usual. All of that felt familiar enough as Sharon cheered and paused the video image. Beside her on the couch, Ashley stretched and set aside her bowl of popcorn, glancing in the vague direction of control panel for the apartment on the far wall. “Can we get the lights on?”

Complying, the computer that ran the building - Peggy suspected it was the same one, if not a similar one, that ran the Triskelion and the New York SHIELD Headquarters - raised the light levels, earning a giggle out of her youngest niece. “I will never get over that. A computer that controls your lights!”

“If it gave you a massage, I’d live in SHIELD housing too,” Sharon laughed, throwing off the blanket she had covering her lap, shooting up off the far couch. “Pee break!”

“You go first, I need some fresh air,” Ashley responded as Peggy, more slowly, pulled herself off the cushions. Sharon had surprised her by reaching out midweek, announcing that she was “kidnapping” her younger sister and the pair of them were planning on taking the train to see her for the weekend. Despite being entrenched deeply in the double messes of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, Peggy had said yes, if nothing else to have a distraction from the fact that she was at an impasse with both of those problems.

“Can I get anything for either of you?” Peggy felt she should at least play a good hostess, recalling some vague memory of her mother’s lessons as she wandered into her large, open space kitchen, setting aside her bowl of popcorn to rummage in the stainless steel refrigerator.

“Water is fine,” Ashley called as she moved towards the expanse of windows overlooking Lincoln Square and the similarly named Lincoln Center outside. “I still can’t believe you rated a place this insanely fabulous after appearing back from the dead.”

“Well, I suppose if one is appearing back from the dead, it is a rather large enough deal they would want to make it worth your while,” Peggy teased, pulling out glasses for both of her nieces as well as herself. “Though, in fairness, I think that has a lot more to do with Nicholas Fury, and perhaps, by extension, Howard Stark. I believe SHIELD owns this entire building, with everyone in it being a SHIELD agent from somewhere. I think I’m the only mostly permanent resident.”

“Must be nice,” Ashley murmured as she opened the door to the balcony outside, a fresh breeze and the sounds of the city below wafting in. “I’ve got a shoebox in Charlottesville I share with one other person and that’s enough to make me crazy.”

Peggy smiled, passing her the bottle. “In fairness, I’d have been just as happy in a shoebox as anywhere. I’ve had worse situations to live in.”

Sharon, who had returned from down the hall, caught the tail end of the conversation. “Yeah, but none of them have the fabulous bath, which is worth every dime of this place. Seriously, Ash, you have to use it before we head home.”

“Ohhh….a bath,” the other Carter woman shivered in delight. “Like, a proper, soaking one?”

“I know, sounds so decadent compared to your shower stall.”

The sisters bantered as Peggy wandered to regard the city from over the edge of her flat. It was certainly one of the more posh places she had lived in, though not by far the poshest - that had been Howard’s spare penthouse. When Cassandra had shown her the place, she’d been hesitant to even accept, fearing there would be strings attached. Much like the rest of her modern life, from her job at SHIELD to her jet setting lifestyle, she had somehow learned to adjust to it. For all that she had been a woman of the 1940s just a year and a half ago, now she felt somewhat more...modern? She supposed that was the term she would use. While the modern world still surprised her quite a bit, such as with this Agent Knight television show, she found that she wasn’t quite as discombobulated by it all as she once had been.

“So, what do you think,” Sharon asked, fairly bursting with curiosity. “I mean, I get the show is cheesy, it’s very much a product of its time, but still, it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, yes,” Peggy agreed, turning to nod, still processing her thoughts regarding it. For Sharon, the show was a cherished memory of bonding with her family, unaware of the connotations of it or the relationship Peggy had with it. For Peggy, it was both a strange pastiche of her own life and a reminder of how the world had passed her by, and of the friends she’d left behind.

“Did you really know Angelica Martin?” Ashley curled up on one of the chairs outdoors, tucking her legs up under her on the fat cushions. She’d heard the entire story from her sister on the train ride up.

“Angie? We roomed together here in the city. I knew her when she was still a struggling waitress, long before she got to be a serious actress.”

“That is still so wild to me. Seriously, you knew Steve Rogers, Howard Stark, and Angelica Martin. If you told me you knew the Queen of England, I wouldn’t be shocked.”

“Oh, I never met the princess, no, but I did meet her uncle, the Duke of Kent.” That was a memory she’d nearly forgotten. “My last training mission, essentially the one thing I needed to pass to get into the SOE, was to attend a dinner party and find the ‘mole’ as it were, the other SOE agent who had the goal of trying to find out what his Grace knew about an upcoming deal with Stark Industries. I neutralized my target before he could even get close to the duke, which both angered him and won me a spot in the SOE. As it turns out, his grace knew very little about the planned deal, he was just a flying enthusiast who was a fan of Howard.”

Both of her nieces blinked at her, Ashley in stunned awe, Sharon in clear appreciation and mild amusement. It was Ashley who finally spoke up, running fingers through her dark hair. “Of course you met a duke.”

“Darling, it was a war and I was a spy, I met a lot of people.” Peggy shrugged, slipping into a chair across from her. “It was a job and I did it. I wasn’t particularly caught up in who the person was.”

“You sound like Sharon,” Ashley nodded to her elder sister, who leaned against the high wall of the balcony. “I don’t think I could do it, what you two do. I mean, I’m happy being an academic, like Dad, and being a nerd.”

“Hey, that’s important too.” Sharon chided her sister, gently, holding up her bottle of water in mild salute. The two sisters, while not night and day different, were unique enough that no one would ever confuse one for the other. That they were both Carters was a given, one only had to look at the pair of them beside Peggy to see that they all three were related. Sharon, however, favored her mother more in looks, blonde rather than the Carter dark hair, and like her mother was more outgoing and friendly than Peggy tended to be. That said the rest of her, from her idealistic nature, to her inquisitive mind, to her thirst for adventure were all Carter traits. Sharon reminded Peggy more of herself than anything, for all that she was her own person.

Ashley was the sister Peggy didn’t know as well yet, but she was coming to appreciate her. By contrast to Sharon, Ashley looked like a Carter, so much so that one could be forgiven for assuming she was Peggy’s sister and not Sharon’s. That said, she lacked the desire for true adventure that had been a hallmark of both Peggy and her brother, taking more after Peggy’s mother’s side of the family, more quiet, proper, reserved. Still, she had a sense of humor about it all and was just as starry eyed as her sister when it came to tales of Peggy’s past.

“So, all those exploits in _Agent Knight_ , were they based on your stories working in the SSR?” Ashley voiced the question that Peggy suspected Sharon was dying to ask and had shown admirable restraint not asking thus far.

“Well,” Peggy hedged, leaning back into the cushion of the chair she’d claimed, setting her frosted bottle on the side table beside her. “I wouldn’t say they were my stories. Angie only ever knew bits and pieces at best. I didn’t even tell her I was an SSR agent for months, and only after she got accidentally embroiled in Howard’s case. Besides, so much of that looks like it is puffed up and over-dramatized for the television, most of it isn’t even real. I would say there is a pinch of my stories in there, a dash of maybe some other people’s stories, and more than a lot of Howard’s imagination, mixed in with whatever Hollywood wanted to do with it.”

It hadn’t escaped Peggy’s notice that Stark Films had made the show or that Howard was credited as an “executive producer,” a title she was sure he likely relished.

“I will say, though, I was never, ever as glamorous as Angie portrayed with that character. When she first met me I was a mess half the time, as I was trying to run the investigation for Howard weapons in secret. I was holding down my day job at the SSR, investigating at night, and only just managing to get an hour of two of sleep before doing it all over again. I began to see why Americans loved their coffee so much.”

“No worse than the war years, surely,” Sharon teased, though she at least understood how unglamorous any of that life actually was just from her own experiences. Sharon, like Cassandra Kam, was not yet a senior agent, and unlike Natasha Romanoff, Sharon was not out in the field doing undercover work, living a life of danger and intrigue like the fictional Rita Knight. The life of a junior agent was often more prosaic than that, often behind a desk doing investigation and research, and only getting out in the field when the case warranted it. The jet setting lifestyle depicted in films and television was not the norm, by rule, and even then was hardly filled with the sort of colorful characters often depicted in those stories. 

“Well, no, I suppose for all I was pulling double duty, I at least had a bed to sleep in, in no small part thanks to Angie.” Peggy smiled in remembrance, the long argument the two of them had about it. “She tried for weeks to get me to look at the extra room at the Griffith and I wouldn’t do it. I was too afraid, I suppose. I’d had a roommate situation before, but it had ended badly due to my work. I was too afraid of putting her or anyone else in danger.”

Peggy didn’t mention Colleen. Even now, three years later in her own timeline, Colleen’s death still hurt, the guilt of it weighing on her. She’d been reckless and her friend had paid a price for it. Little known or mourned in the likes of New York, only Peggy had paid attention to the little obituary in the paper. She frowned as she considered the two young women across from her, two of her brother’s granddaughters, so capable and fearless in this strange world, so far removed from the one she had lived just a few years ago.

“Anyway, Angie was the one who convinced me to move in and that was that. She had no idea I worked for the SSR, though, I kept that part secret. That only got out after I was arrested for treason by Jack Thompson and Daniel Sousa, right there in front of Miriam Fry.”

“I’m sure that went over well,” Sharon snorted, shaking her head. “How in the world did she ever let you back in the door?”

“Technically, she didn’t. When the case was over, I made Thompson and Sousa go back and apologize to her while I went and collected my things. Howard had a spare penthouse, as you do in this city when you are rich, apparently, and I was installed there that evening. Angie came with me. We lived there for a while, but, then finally she started getting work that took her away from New York, and I grew tired of rattling around by myself, so I moved into a place alone. That’s where I was before I left and ended up here.”

Had that all only been over the last three years. It felt more like a lifetime ago, all to a different person. What would Angie think if she knew the truth?

As if reading her mind, Sharon spoke into life the one question Peggy had been avoiding. “Are you going to actually try to make contact with her?”

That was the subject Peggy had hoped to carefully avoid.

“What in the world would I say? Hello, there was an incident and now I am here in this time?”

Peggy was careful with her words. While Sharon knew the truth about time travel and the whole lot, Ashley did not. Peggy had told her family it was an accident, an experiment in cryogenics that had caught her on a mission, an explanation that strangely seemed far more acceptable and plausible to her family than time travel clearly did. Outside of SHIELD and her family, no one really knew the truth. It was far too barmy to even begin explaining to anyone, and so Peggy avoided it all together, which was part of her excuse with Angie. She didn’t have a cogent explanation, not even the true one. How could she explain any of this? Not to mention she wasn’t precisely sure how she could begin to apologize for walking away. It had been one thing, lying to Angie about the nature of her work, sidestepping the truth. Then she could claim national security and her work as a spy. This had been her choosing to leave without saying goodbye. That...that was a different sort of hurt.

“You’re afraid of talking to her, aren’t you?”

Peggy glanced up at Sharon, then shrugged. “Wouldn’t you be? What if someone you knew disappeared for decades, most of your life, only to reappear as if they had never left? What would you say?”

“I don’t know,” she responded, honestly. Ashley, sitting across from Peggy, looked thoughtful as she considered the question.

“Sharon would probably be all stoic and compartmentalize it,” she smirked, softly, earning a nod of acknowledgement from her sister. “Me on the other hand, I’d cry and make a scene and be totally like Mom.”

“Remember when you found your long, lost doll in the garage after she was missing for over a year?”

“Oh, yeah! Mom and Dad had hidden Krista because I left her on the back deck by accident one night. They said it was to teach me a lesson.”

Sharon shot Peggy a knowing look. “Bawled right there on the laundry room floor, she was so happy to have her back.”

Peggy chuckled, appreciating the levity the sisters were trying to bring. “I’m afraid that I don’t have the same excuse as a mislaid toy.”

“Even so, she would still like to see you, right,” Ashley asked, dark eyes encouraging. “I mean, what could it hurt? Maybe, if she has a caretaker, like one of her children, or a friend, you can reach out, have someone there with her, maybe prepare her so you aren’t just showing up on her doorstep, back from the dead.”

“I could look into it,” Sharon offered, eagerly. “Maybe even reach out for you. We could make it happen. I’m sure she still has an agent and publicist who might be willing to help connect the two of you.”

“And you can keep it lowkey, so no one else has to know about it.”

Peggy doubted it was that simple.

“Where is she at again?”

“Los Angeles, I think around Burbank, maybe.” Sharon pulled out her phone from her pocket, clearly having made notes somewhere. She tapped the screen, only to pause and frown as the pale, blue light lit up her face. “You don’t have your phone on you, do you?”

Peggy frowned, trying to think where it would be. “No, I think I left it in my handbag. Why?”

“Hill’s trying to reach you. She needs you to check in on a situation.”

“On what?” Peggy was on her feet and through the French door, towards the table in the foyer where she left her bag as they had all come in.

“Didn’t say, just said it was urgent.”

She made it to her bag and indeed did see her phone alight with messages, several from Hill and at least four from Romanoff. That meant it could be only something to do with Tony Stark. Praying he had not managed to set anything on fire or blow anything up, she dialed set the secure settings and dialed Romanoff’s number. 

She answered only after several rings. “You know how you didn’t want Stark doing anything stupid?”

Peggy glanced towards Sharon, who nodded from the balcony and got up to quietly close the door, giving her privacy. “What happened?”

“I perhaps pushed Stark a bit too hard in the wrong way. His birthday party went to hell in a handbasket.”

That had precisely what Peggy had been afraid of. “How?”

“The exact way you would think if you are rich, powerful, surrounded by enablers, and have a weaponized, robotic suit. He got drunk, put the suit on, next thing I know he’s trying to shoot watermelons out of the air. That’s when it went downhill.”

Peggy swore, loudly. “How badly?”

“Well, his house is going to need a massive renovation and I’m fairly certain that the Air Force now has one of his suits.”

Peggy glanced at her watch. “It’s not even that late out there.”

“No, that went very quickly,” Romanoff agreed, tension, frustration, and a hint of anger in her otherwise even tone. “He was lit before even the first guests arrived. By the time Potts got here an hour later he was already getting handsy with me. I will have to figure out an apology to her later.”

If Romanoff was offended or upset by Stark’s behavior, she didn’t let on. “How does the Air Force have one of his suits?” Peggy hadn’t even been aware there was more than one.

“He has several different ones down in his lab. Rhodes showed up just as things started going seriously off the rails. He is keyed both for the lab and for the suit, so he was able to take it. Clearly, Stark trusts him with it, as Rhodes is the only person outside of Potts who has that level of access, so not just anyone could take it. When Stark started shooting things around the crowd, Rhodes went and got it, and it all fell apart then. The two of them decided to bash each other around Stark’s place. The crowd got out for the most part, but many stuck around to get a load of the festivities.”

“Were there any injuries or casualties?”

“Potts nearly got hit with flying glass. I got her out before anything else serious could happen, else she would have tried to break it all up and maybe gotten herself killed. Otherwise, there were people with some minor scrapes and bruises, one girl who turned her ankle fairly badly, but I blame that on her ridiculous shoes.”

“Thank God for that.” Someone getting seriously hurt would have made an already untenable situation even worse. As it was, Peggy had no idea how they would be able to keep the US Army from marching up and taking all the rest of Stark’s technology away from him. “Did you get a response team in?”

“The guests started calling the LAPD, but I had SHIELD intercept and call the cops off. We have our own people sitting at the end of the drive. We got the guests out and to their cars and most everyone is accounted for. I’ve had eyes up in the air, though, keeping the likes of TMZ and other paparazzi away, and we have a social media team screening and scanning for anyone posting video on it. I can try to keep a lid on this, but that said, it’s going to leek at some point and Stern and everyone else who is already screaming bloody murder over Stark are going to hop on this quick.”

They were, that much Peggy knew, and it was not going to be pretty. “Where is Stark now?”

“Sulking in his lab, I suspect. It is probably the only part of the house they didn’t completely trash outside of the bedrooms upstairs. I am guessing he’s either quietly making himself more drunk or is sleeping it all off in a corner.”

“Do we have agents on the place?”

“Eyes all over it.”

Peggy ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “All right, I can see when I can get a transport out, though it likely won’t be till morning. Someone needs to get a hold of him and control this mess.”

“How offended would you be if I told you that Fury is already coming out this way?”

In all honesty, it did irk her somewhat that Romanoff had gone to him at all. “He passed this buck off to me. Why is he involved?”

“Because you weren’t answering and Hill made the call. Besides, he’s been in New Mexico monitoring a situation, so he’s closer. He can be here in a few hours, at least to help mitigate the worst and talk Stark down off all of his bluster. Besides, he can speak from his position as head of SHIELD.”

“Which didn’t work out well for him last time he chatted with Stark,” Peggy snapped, already moving through the flat and down the hall to her bedroom to pack a case with some things. “What will make Stark listen more this time?”

“We have a fix for his palladium problem,” Romanoff replied, unbothered by Peggy’s flair of temper. “The team here in LA cooked up something and I’m going to grab it before Fury meets with Stark.”

“A permanent one?”

“Well, one that will take care of the most immediate problem. The rest he will have to figure out on his own. Fury is bringing all of Howard’s notes that we have on file, including the ones you requisitioned last year, everything on the Arc Reactor. If there is something in there, Stark will have access to it.”

“I doubt there will be anything there that Stark hasn’t already seen about the Arc Reactor,” Peggy grumbled, having reviewed those very notes herself. “So if Fury is interjecting himself into the middle of this, do I even need to bother coming?”

“I don’t think Fury is looking at this as a contest over who has the most authority in the situation,” Romanoff chided, pointedly. “Merely there is a crisis and he is closer than you. I’m sure once you get out here he will happily relinquish it. He’s got other fires, not just Stark.”

“And no one gets Stark sitting duty as well as I do?”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Romanoff offered, diplomatically.

“You have said it,” Peggy answered, peevish.

“I have, but only because it’s true. The harder any of the rest of us try to get a handle on him, the worse he gets. Maybe he needs someone who has a history of not putting up with his temper tantrums, someone who he might come to respect.”

“He’s shown precious little respect for anyone or anything thus far. The man did just blow up his house to attack his best friend.”

“Way I hear tell it, you have a special knack for forcing men who refuse to listen to you to respect you. How is Stark any different from any of the men you faced in your past?”

Peggy did not give Romanoff nearly enough credit. She was very good at what she did. “I didn’t know you were a motivational speaker on top of someone who could push people’s buttons.”

“I have a great many talents most people don’t know about.”

Peggy sighed. She was being petty, and she knew it. “I’ll call in a transport for first thing in the morning. I’ll need someone to meet me with a vehicle.”

“Someone will meet you. I’d suggest flying into Santa Monica, it will be easier to get here.”

Peggy sighed, considering her nieces who had come over, planning to spend a long weekend. “Keep me updated if anything changes.”

“My hope is that he’s passed out for now and won’t be any more of a problem.”

Peggy knew better than that.

“If there is one thing I do know about Starks, Romanoff, is that if they can find a way to complicate a situation, they often will.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy makes an impression.

When Peggy landed at the small airfield in Santa Monica, she was only mildly surprised to see Romanoff there, waiting.

“I didn’t think you would be my welcoming committee.” Peggy greeted the other woman with a handshake, firm and professional, much as their relationship was.

“Fury and Stark are having a bit of a ‘bros heart-to-heart,’ so I thought I could come down and escort you. Besides, it was best I wasn’t there.” Romanoff led the way to a car parked on the edge of the field, a practical sedan. Unlike her previous video calls and other meetings while on her detail with Stark, she was dressed in a sort of tight fitting tactical suit, one Peggy had seen some other female agents wear, one she, personally, hadn’t been brave enough to don. Still, it suited the petite woman and she could imagine for her style of fighting it was much more useful than something that was baggier and could catch.

“Why did you feel it best not to be there?”

Romanoff cocked her head and shrugged a mildly bemused shoulder. “Fury decided it was time to blow my cover with him. Stark took it about as well as you could imagine.”

“That is to say, he didn’t take it well at all?”

“He wasn’t thrilled, no. He may have fired me on the spot.”

Peggy wasn’t precisely surprised by that as Romanoff clicked a button on the key fob, opening the sedan’s trunk. “So what does that mean?”

“It’s a cold day in hell if Stark thinks either you or Fury are going to take me off his detail. Fury’s suggestion was to have me work more directly with Potts. If you are all right with that, I’ll move over to her for now, let Stark cool off, at least till we get him through all of this.”

It was a sound plan and Peggy found herself agreeing almost immediately. “Potts isn’t aware of your cover, is she?”

“No,” Romanoff assured her, climbing behind the wheel. “As it is I will have to do a bit of fast talking to get into her good graces. My plan to push Stark’s buttons perhaps worked a bit too well, and Potts wasn’t terribly happy with me last night. She may not realize her feelings for Stark, but that doesn’t stop her from getting jealous when another personal assistant happens to draw his attention.”

There was something smug in that statement, and it occurred to Peggy that Romanoff was pleased she could manipulate the situation the way she did. “You like dragging him by the nose like that.”

“Stark made it easy.” She started the car as Peggy settled herself, strapping into the seat belt. “More than anything, I played a pretty, mysterious ingenue, two of the things that interest him the most. He couldn't figure me out and so he was interested. It made him controllable up till now. But, thanks to my cover being blown, he thinks he has the answers and doesn’t like what he sees.”

Peggy was still more intrigued by the merry dance Romanoff led him on. “Is that something they teach you in the Red Room? How to manipulate people like that?”

Romanoff cut a nondescript gaze at her as she eased her way through traffic towards the highway that led north and west, around the curve of the bay, towards Stark’s house. “Are you asking because you find it strange, or are you asking because of her?”

Peggy knew which “her” she meant. She’d mentioned Dottie Underwood to Romanoff before. “I suppose there is a part of me that always wants to try and understand.”

It was a broad answer, but it seemed to be enough for Romanoff. “You learn very early that most people, men especially, will never really see you as a person, not on first glance, anyway. You are usually an idea to them, be it an authority figure, a comrade, an annoyance, a sexual object. Your existence, who you are as a person, your thoughts, hopes, desires, don’t matter to them. All that matters is what they want and get out of the connection to you. When you understand that, it’s easy to manipulate the rest. You find out what they want and go from there. It makes most people easier to handle. Play into their expectations, let them think they have control of your relationship, allow them to become complacent and comfortable...then you strike.”

“Like a hunter?” Peggy was somewhat discomforted by the analogy.

“ _Kak pauk pletushchiy pautinu_ ,” Romanoff replied in easy and comfortable Russian. “Like a spider spinning a web. It was why we were called “black widows.” It wasn’t because we killed and ate our lovers, it was because we trapped them in a web of our creation. The eating part was only if we felt like it.”

It took a full moment for Peggy to catch on to her sarcasm, the joke behind her words. She snorted, finally, shaking her head as they crawled along the narrow highway that inched its way between rolling hills, canyons and cliffs to the east, and lazy beaches feeding into the Pacific Ocean to the west. “Was that the name of your program, then? Black widows?”

“It is an appropriately dramatic name for trained, female assassins, don’t you think?” Her teasing smile was brilliant, but Peggy couldn’t help but think it was a tad brittle as well. “Got to hand it to the KGB, they were always good at naming things.”

“Like Leviathan?”

Romanoff’s chuckle was dry and amused. “What can I say, it’s nice and biblical, very Old Testament. Admittedly, Hobbsian social contract theory is very Russian. Give up some of your personal freedoms in favor of a strong authority figure in order to protect you and keep the peace. It’s something that my people can relate to. In fairness, they’ve not really known much of anything else.”

That Natasha Romanoff of all people could spout English social contract philosophy to her while driving to the house of one of the richest men in the world should have shocked Peggy, but somehow it didn’t. “I must admit, you are someone who constantly surprises me. You’ve read _Leviathan_?”

“I’ve covered more than one university professor. Being well read over a broad number of subjects helps with small talk. You of all people get that.”

Peggy supposed she did. Frankly, much of her training in the SOE had been in things that would allow her to hide in plain sight if she needed to. Romanoff’s training - and by extension, Dottie’s - wouldn’t have been different in that respect.

Peggy shifted subjects, moving more to the matter at hand. “How bad is the situation with Stark?”

“He was at least awake this morning. Admittedly, when we found him, he was hiding out in the middle of the Randy’s Donut sign on Manchester and La Cienega, not far from Stark Industries, tired and looking like death. That was just from his hangover, which I imagine is hellacious and not helped by his blood poisoning. I think the concoction the labs were able to whip up took the edge off it for a bit, at least enough for him to focus on other things.”

“Such as?”

“Finding a solution for his Arc Reactor problem. Basically, Fury is putting the boy genius in time out until he finds a fix. He gets to come out and play again only when he’s found a solution.”

“So it really will be Stark babysitting duty?”

Romanoff conceded that. “Stark is at least willing to listen. I know it won’t seem like it at first, but he does. It’s perhaps one of the hidden strengths he does have. He may be a narcissist, self-centered, and unable to work well with others, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hear you and consider what you have to say.”

She at least had that going in the situation. “How about the situation with the party? Were we able to keep that quiet?”

“For now, but his guests will talk at some point. The sooner we can get him pinned down, the better.”

“And the other suit?”

“Rhodes still has it,” Romanoff’s sigh was heavy. “And according to our satellites he flew it out to his house in Lancaster last night. My guess is he took it to Edwards this morning. The Air Force has their hands on it, but Rhodes is the only one who knows how to work it. I doubt they will be able to reproduce it, though they may get Justin Hammer out to take a look and salivate all over it.”

“He couldn’t possibly recreate it?”

“Reverse engineer it...maybe, but it’s the Arc Reactor that makes it go. Without that piece, he’s got a suit but no way to run it. Stark is the only one who knows how to make those, so it’s bad news for the US military.”

“Except Ivan Vanko does.”

Romanoff glanced at her in surprise, all while expertly maneuvering around a motorcycle wending up the road. “You hadn’t heard?”

Her shock gave Peggy pause. “Heard what?”

“Vanko was killed in his holding cell three days ago. The investigation by French authorities is still pending, but it looks like he was trying to make a homemade bomb and it went wrong...or right, depending on how you look at it. Considering he spent fifteen years of his life in a Russian prison, the idea of more time behind bars perhaps didn’t sound terribly appealing to him.”

That information hadn’t made it to her. Had Cassandra even known? “I’m assuming the French authorities contacted Stark.”

“It’s how I know about it. Frankly, between you and me, it sounds fishy. My bet is that he isn’t dead and that the motherland came to get him. The fact that he showed the world definitively that he could create an Arc Reactor like Stark’s means they would want him. If he’s not really dead, he’s locked away in a lab somewhere in Siberia, and good luck getting him out.”

“Well, doesn’t that make our job a whole lot more complicated.” Peggy mulled over that information for long moments. “Do you still have contacts you could ask about it in Russia?”

She was pensive for several long moments. “Some, but not a lot, not for that type of thing, anyway. I could ask around and see, but no promises.”

“If he’s alive and they have him, we need to either get him out or neutralize the program. If they get this, then all of Senator Stern’s worst fears will be realized, and we will have no hope of keeping them from Stark’s suit.”

“And what about the one Rhodes’ has?”

Peggy considered, knowing what she did know about James Rhodes. “Do you think he can be trusted with it?”

“Rhodes, yes, everyone else, no. I think that as long as he has the suit and knows how to use it, he will be responsible with it, but I think it is going to take a lot of SHIELD intervention to prevent them from trying to rip it apart and mass produce it. If we can get this Stark thing settled, show how it really is only very particular people who should ever have access to it, they might cave. They can’t just make a bunch of these and allow raw recruits from Smalltown, USA to fly them, they will get themselves or someone else killed. If we can convince both Stark and the military that Rhodes having the suit is enough, then perhaps both sides can come to a compromise.”

“Then I guess that’s our plan.” It wasn’t precisely a perfect plan, but it was the sort of plan that SHIELD was there for, to negotiate between feuding sides. “So, just how badly did Stark destroy his house?”

It didn’t take terribly long for Peggy to find out.

Romanoff turned off the main highway and onto a winding road, one that triggered in Peggy’s recent memory. Now the path was smooth, paved in black asphalt, but once upon a time - or only two years ago for Peggy, it had been a road of dirt and gravel, pitted and hardly level. The entire area had at one point in time been part of a ranch, sprawling farmland that had raised mostly cattle until the owner had sold up and the land had been divided up by speculators. Howard had gotten in on the ground floor, purchasing the most choice bit of land, unsure of what he would do with it. When Peggy had come out there in 1947, he'd used it for little more than a fishing spot, a place to hide away from Los Angeles and his growing enterprises there, but even then he had been considering building a new home one the spot. He had his mansion in the city, of course, it was where Peggy had stayed, but he’d purchased that off of some movie star who had been forced to sell. This new home he had wanted to design himself, working with an architect influenced by the aerospace industry, some man named John Lautner. He hadn’t even finished the designs yet when Peggy had stepped into the future, but she’d heard enough about them, his new passion project, a house they would be talking about for generations to come.

Howard exaggerated about a great many things, but regarding his house, that he clearly had not. White cement and glass curled around each other in the early morning sun, gleaming in its brightness. It didn’t look extraordinarily tall, but it was sprawling, perched as it was across the top of the cliff, the small spit of land thrusting into the Santa Monica Bay. What had once been little more than scrubby land in the 1940s, fit for little better than the cattle that had grazed there, was now a blanket of immaculately tended, emerald green grass that ran up to the poplar lined driveway that wended its way through it. Through the trees, Peggy could see a helipad, with a plain, black helicopter sitting quiescent on it, beside twin tennis courts and what looked like a garden filled with rocks and desert plants. The whole thing led to a circular courtyard, finally bricked, outlined in shrubbery and palms, shading the walls of glass and the massive, double doors that guarded the inner sanctum of the Stark mansion.

Or they would, if much of the windows hadn’t been blown out. Thick, pebble-like chunks of shattered, green hued glass scattered across the brickwork and into the shrubs, popping under the tires of the car as Romanoff brought it to a halt by the door. Peggy eyed the destruction with a bland eye, glancing over to Romanoff warily.

“If you think this is bad, wait till you see what he did on the other side. They are going to have to rake it off the beach before anyone can walk barefoot down there.”

“How is the house still standing?”

“Most of it was just the two of them wrestling around, though Stark is a piss poor shot when he’s six sheets to the wind.”

Gingerly, Peggy stepped out of the sedan in her practical heels. Her shoes skated and scraped on glass, scuffing the brick, but she at least didn’t fall. She instead rounded the car to the trunk, where her bags sat, wondering just what she would find inside - a hungover mess or a sulking child.

Romanoff watched quietly, leaning against the end of the car, arms crossed. “I got to say, I like the hat.”

“Thank you.” Peggy adjusted the bright, red Stetson on her dark hair. “I felt I would need it today, make an impression.”

“It does that. It feels very Peggy Carter.” She flashed a hint of a smile, a look of camaraderie. “Good luck with Stark. Don’t put up with his bullshit.”

“I’m certain that he has plenty of it to throw at me.” Peggy had a feeling it would likely start the minute she walked in the door.

Romanoff closed the trunk, passing the keys to her, nodding to the helicopter on the pad in the distance. “I’ll hitch a ride with Fury back to HQ. In the meantime…”

From out of one of her utility pockets, she pulled her phone. She quickly tapped on the screen, wrinkling her nose in concentration as she did. “I just cut off communication between Stark and the outside world. Neither he nor his AI can access his satellites, which will make him have to work.”

“The theory is that he is a child who needs to have his toys taken away?”

“Hey, it works on thirteen-year-olds, I am sure it will work on him. Your phone and laptop are tied to the SHIELD networks, so you personally should be good. I’ve called for SHIELD agents to watch the premises, so they will be stationed at the edge of the drive and around different areas near the property. Unless he’s jumping the cliff, he can’t get out without us knowing. We won’t necessarily stop him if he does, but should he choose to and you aren’t aware of it, you can have a strong talk with him about his grades and threaten to take away his video games.”

“Duly noted,” Peggy rolled her eyes, feeling somewhat like she was being left in charge of a toddler. “Anything else?”

“I’ll be on Potts duty, keeping my cover, if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to taze him if necessary.”

“Oh, I don’t think I need to shock him to get my point across,” she smiled sweetly. Natasha grinned.

“Well, let’s go in and say hello.”

They stepped carefully through the shattered glass to the doors, opening them easily enough. Peggy guessed SHIELD had taken off the defenses. Just inside sat a series of cases, the gray crates that Peggy knew Howard’s files were all collected in. The space itself was minimalistic, gray and featureless, spartan in the same way a museum was. But a cool breeze was blowing across what she presumed was the living area, thanks in no small part to the fact the windows were shattered out, and the Pacific spread out in endless blue green out to the pale sky. Outside sat Fury with Stark, though the former was rising to return inside, leaving the latter befuddled, scrambling to follow.

“You got this, right?” Fury turned in his step to glance back at Stark with his one good eye. “Right?”

“Got what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to get!” Stark looked vaguely panicked, holding a glass and frowning gormlessly at Fury. He did look rather worse for wear, his face bruised and battered, bags forming below his dark eyes. He’d at least cleaned up and seemed to be wearing a very familiar robe, the same, ugly one Howard had always loved to lounge around in. It looked no better on his son.

Fury continued, choosing to be willfully oblivious of Stark’s panic. “Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact.”

“Bwuh…”

Fury glanced to Peggy, and it was clear that he was enjoying his moment, running roughshod over the infamously sharp Stark. “You remember Director Carter?”

Her name caused Stark’s gaze to snap towards Peggy, memory and recognition clear on his otherwise befuddled expression. “Errr...yeah, we’ve met a couple of times.”

“She’ll be here with you, making sure you stay on task.”

It took Stark all of five seconds to process what that meant, which was four seconds longer than it should have, due in part, she suspected, to him suffering the ill effects of a rather rough night. “You are seriously leaving me with a babysitter?”

“Wouldn’t have to if I could trust you to not do something stupid just to prove a point, but I can’t, so here she is. Besides, you two might find you have a lot in common. She is something of an expert on your father and some of his work.”

That caught his attention. He cocked his head as Peggy wandered up towards him. “You are...the expert on my father?”

“Something like that.” Peggy wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but compared to most of SHIELD, and really, even his own son, she probably was. “I have had rather intimate knowledge of a lot of it and have some insight into how he liked to think.”

“Really?” Something about her words, or perhaps the choice of them, rankled with him. She saw the spark of irritation light up as he sized her up and down. “You were the one who headed up the search for me, right?”

She knew he was well aware who she was, but refused to bristle or be baited by him. “I was.”

“Was it because you were a Howard Stark fangirl? Really into my pop’s work, so they tap you to go and bring his wayward son in?”

“Hardly,” she murmured.

She might not have said anything at all for all that he paid attention to her. His nostrils flared as he took a step forward, something hard forming as his brows knit together in angry accusation. “So what is this? You and Romanoff, busy spying on my life? Is that what SHIELD’s been up to all this time, playing nursemaid to me because my father couldn’t trust that I could manage a damn thing for myself?”

“SHIELD isn’t in the habit of following around private citizens they don’t have reason to follow.”

“Bullshit! I find out five minutes ago my father was one of the founders of your little superspy organization and that you all have been stashing his work and sending operatives into my company, doing God knows what, and I’m not supposed to feel a bit violated here?”

“Stark,” Fury uttered his warning coldly, ringing through the nearly empty space of his destroyed home, but Stark was well past listening to the hint of a threat there. His pinpoint gaze never wavered as he glared at Peggy.

“So, tell me, Director Carter, why do you and SHIELD care so bad about me? Is it a plot to get my suit? Is it because I’m a national security threat? Or is it because my father warned all of you years ago that I was such a colossal fuck up I couldn’t be trusted, so better go make sure Tony doesn’t screw the pooch and blow us all to kingdom come, because you can’t trust the kid with screwdriver, let alone his precious, billion dollar company.”

Peggy was far too stunned by his visceral reaction to formulate a really well-thought, cogent retort. “Your father did nothing of the kind.”

“Really, because that is exactly what my father would do. Leave the adults around to take care of stuff and give Tony distractions so he doesn’t do anything too dangerous. I mean, I got to say, you really do fall into the kind of distraction my father usually complained about; curvy, gorgeous, the femme fatale, Barbara Stanwyck type. Come to think of it, I think he slept with her, so you are about exactly the type to keep me in my place. So, I ask again Director Carter, what are you up to? You here to seduce me and steal my work for SHIELD or just fuck me and keep me out of everyone’s way, because honestly, I don’t know how up I am for either, and…”

Peggy didn’t know who was more surprised by what happened next; herself, Stark, or Fury. For a certainty the only one not surprised in the room was Romanoff. Peggy didn’t even think before her fist flew right into Stark’s face with a sickening crunch. The force of it sent him staggering and falling, sliding across the polish floor as his hand flew to his nose, blood already gushing. He lay there, staring, stunned, at his ceiling.

There was a long moment of silence. No one said a thing, not Fury, whose eyebrows were trying to crawl across his bald head, not the other agents who were all staring at the tableaux in opened mouthed awe, and not Romanoff, who looked as if she wanted to laugh herself sick, but was restraining herself by sheer willpower alone. 

Certainly Stark didn’t say anything for a long moment as blood started to trickle between his fingers and down the side of his cheek towards his left ear. When he finally did make a noise, it was in a low, pinched, nasal moan. “Ow!”

“Can someone get a tissue,” Peggy sighed, as one of the agents pulled out a small, traveler’s pack of them. Peggy undid the plastic and pulled out the whole wad, passing them to Stark where he lay. Blindly, he took them, shoving half of them against his nostrils as he attempted to use the other half to mop up the blood on his cheek.

“All right,” he huffed through paper tissue and blood. “All right, I deserved that.”

“You’re damn right, you absolutely did.” Fury came to stand over him, his singular gaze staring at Stark as if he were insane. “You’re lucky you ended up with a pop in the nose for your troubles.”

“I think it’s broken,” he whined, trying to sit up. It was hard to tell, given the wad of rapidly reddening tissue and the immediate swelling.

“If I did, I know how to reset it,” she shot back, unperturbed.

He frowned mildly up at her. “I’m getting blood on my robe. It’s silk.”

“I know how to clean that out too.”

“It was my father’s,” he muttered, lamely.

“I know,” she sighed, holding out a hand to him to help him up. “I never particularly thought it suited him.”

He at least was still quick enough to pick up on that. He frowned at her, looking utterly ridiculous with his face a mess. Before he could comment further, however, Fury was in his face, grabbing his attention.

“I got my eye on you, Tony.” Fury tapped his cheek just under his good one, shaking his bald head before turning on his heel, his coat tails flaring. Peggy had to admit, it was a rather dramatic sight. Romanoff smirked, nodding approvingly at Peggy, before following suit, keeping step with Fury as the other agents all fell into line behind them. Within moments, they were alone, the sound of the helicopter coming to life echoing distantly on the lawn, stirring up a wind that blew through the trees outside.

Stark only scowled, glaring at her for a long, hard moment. “What did you mean you never thought this robe ever particularly suited him?”

Peggy sighed. She had a feeling she’d get no rest till she explained something. “How about we clean up your face, first, and then set about getting you in order. I’m afraid we’ve gotten off to a rather wrong start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...this is chapter is the reason I started this series, this meeting here. It sort of spun to life a year or so ago while watching _Iron Man 2_ and I mused on it and here we are, this story. So...yeah, this is why you are getting this mad story in the first place, because I had a moment thinking having these two meet would be interesting. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy is reminded of an old friend.

She attended to Stark's nose, which was not broken. He would have a rather spectacular black eye within a few hours. Realizing that Peggy’s presence at his home was a permanent situation until he could figure out what to do about his reactor, Stark had begrudgingly shown her to one of the guests rooms upstairs, blessedly untouched by the events of the night before, then left her there as he went to change out of his robe in his own master suite down the hall. He returned to his lab shortly after to sulk away what remained of his afternoon. Peggy didn’t even see him walk by again, only heard his footsteps on the stairs as he called out faint orders to someone.

She had punched him. That was how she really introduced herself, by punching him in the face? Peggy rubbed her temples in frustration, flopping back on the ridiculously comfortable mattress, mentally reviewing the entire ugly scene downstairs in her mind. What about her had set him off in such an ugly way? Had it been Fury casually mentioning she was something of an expert on his father’s work or that she was in effect his jailer, tasked with keeping him here until he came up with a solution? Perhaps it was none of those things, but rather a lashing out over a perceived slight that had nothing to do with them, born out of his own anxieties and fears since his capture and fed by a lingering resentment towards his long-dead father.

_Oh, Howard! What have you done?_

Rising, she wandered over to the long, floor to ceiling windows that made up the outer wall of her bedroom. They faced out onto the ocean, down towards what she guessed was the south side of the thrust of land Stark’s house sat on. For all that the decor of Stark’s mansion lacked in substance or glamor, it made up for in the gorgeousness of its views. The sun was still high, but moving slowly towards the line where the sky and sea met. Towards the south and east, she could see, far off in the distance, the curve of land she and Romanoff had just driven up, and nearly directly across the bay was the spot where she had landed that morning. Down the coast was the sprawl of the city of Los Angeles itself. Once upon a time, when the city was much smaller, long before there was a house on the property, there had been a little pier, nothing more than a spot to lash up a dingy or other small boat, where Howard would sit with a pole. That had been years ago, though, and she doubted that it was even still there.

She glanced down the curving expanse of glass towards where it met the concrete of the house itself, looking for blinds or something to shade the windows. She found nothing there, nor did she find anything above to pull down. Confused, she wandered the spacious length of it as it curved around the entire guest suite, past the comfortable chair and table set at the far end, beside a modern looking fireplace, dark and cold at the moment. Outside of a lovely cream-colored chenille throw on one of the chairs, there didn’t seem to be anything to block out the increasingly bright glare of the sun from off the ocean far below or an apparatus that would allow her to do such.

“A state-of-the-art house and you can’t even put a set of curtains or blinds inside of it,” she huffed, mildly. “Typical Howard, you think of all the big picture pieces, but not the little details.”

She hadn’t expected an answer back to what she thought was private observations, so it went without saying that she was startled silly by the ethereal voice floating in answer to her mutterings. “Might I be of any assistance, Director?”

Peggy at least had the grace not to yelp, after all, her own flat had an artificial intelligence, limited as it was, that ran the building. And she was aware that Stark had his own running his home, one that purportedly was one of the most impressive kinds of artificial intelligence out there. No, what had surprised her was less that there was a disembodied voice speaking up as much as who it sounded like. Far from the artificial and stilted tones she was used to, the voice sounded polite, helpful, friendly, nearly human in its tone. She might have expected that it belonged to a man standing in the doorway of her guest suite, not a voice coming from somewhere in the ether. Worse still, the voice sounded hauntingly familiar, the ghost of someone who would have done that very thing once upon a time.

“I beg your pardon,” she croaked, looking up towards the ceiling with wide-eyes.

“You look as if you may need assistance. I was offering my services.”

Peggy swallowed, her knees feeling vaguely weak in surprise. She grabbed the back of one of the chairs, sinking to the edge of it as she stared up into pale plaster above, as if expecting to see someone she recognized there. “I was looking for the means to shade out the sunlight. The glare from outside is getting a bit much.”

“I can control the tinting of the windows, if you like, depending on your preferred sunlight quantity and heat preference. As it will soon be midday, I can set it to fifty percent for now, gradually increasing towards seventy-five percent as the day progresses and sunlight increases along the west facing side of the house. This should keep the light and temperatures at an optimal level.”

As the voice spoke, Peggy could see the glass grow visibly more dim, a tint, not unlike that for sunglasses, spreading across them. She blinked at it in mild awe. “You are just able to...do that? Tint the windows as needed?”

“I used to be able to set all the windows in the house, but unfortunately, Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes destroyed most of them. I do apologize that it will mean I will not be as efficient in temperature control as I could be, but the suites all each of their own individual climates, so it should not make it uncomfortable here. I have taken the liberty of ordering replacements, but am afraid they will take upwards of four to six weeks to arrive, given the nature of the glass used to integrate into Mr. Stark’s systems.”

Peggy listened, eyes wide as she gripped the edges of the curving chair with its soft, velvet like fabric covering. “That’s...quite all right, can’t be helped.”

There was a pause on the part of the machine. “Director, I can’t help but notice your heart rate levels are elevated. Are you quite all right?”

“Yes,” she gasped, half frantically, nearly in tears. “Yes, I’m...you just remind me of someone I used to know. Very much remind me of him, as a matter of fact. He is long dead now, but for a moment...”

She trailed off, eyes burning. It was all so silly, these tears. She was talking to a computer, nothing more. But the cadence was so familiar, she could almost swear…

The voice was silent for half a moment before speaking again. “I see. I don’t mean to cause you any distress.”

“Oh no, no distress, just surprise, I suppose. I knew Mr. Stark had an artificial intelligence, but not much more about it...you.” It occurred to her that she didn’t know what sort of pronoun would be appropriate when conversing with a sentient computer. “Are you a ‘you’?”

The voice was quiet, as if thinking. “I suppose ‘you’ is the most appropriate term, yes. The English language perhaps isn’t terribly equipped for such things, but if it helps, while I am a program that was written and designed by Mr. Stark, I have evolved quite a bit over the last ten years of my existence, and perhaps have something of a personality of my own. Perhaps ‘you’ is the appropriate term.”

Certainly, it...he had far more of a personality than the simple system Peggy was used to. “Were you who Mr. Stark was speaking to just then?”

“Mr. Stark likes to think that he has the best conversations with himself, but he does spend a remarkable amount of time in discussions with me. I must admit that usually it is in fulfilling my function of assisting him.”

Peggy found her heart squeezing painfully at that. “Well, if I will be staying here for the next while as Mr. Stark works, do you have a name by which I can call you?”

“Mr. Stark has named me, rather tongue-in-cheek, as Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, but he tends to call me JARVIS.”

Her breath caught in her throat for a long, painful moment, before hot tears began to spill down her cheeks, unbidden. A noise between a laugh and a keen rose from her as she found herself covering her face, crying in a way she hadn’t expected. She curled into the chair for long moments, sobbing half in ironic, sad mirth, half in true grief and loss. It was all so unexpected, and from such a shocking place, she didn’t know how to stop.

“Director Carter,” the voice - JARVIS - murmured timidly, and very endearingly, sounding for all the world like the uptight, proper man she knew who was nearly always slightly bemused as to what to do in moments like this. “Director...are you quite all right.”

She snuffled, taking several moments to pull herself together, giggling half madly as she wiped at a cheek with the back of her wrist. “Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. Jarvis. I’m afraid that a short night and a long flight, coupled with Mr. Stark’s antics, perhaps left me more on edge than I expected.”

JARVIS seemed to accept this. “I remind you of him, then, don’t I? Edwin Jarvis?”

In a day and age of all manner of technological marvels, she shouldn’t be surprised he was aware of the resemblance, but she was. “I...yes, you do.”

“I wondered when you said I reminded you of someone. Mr. Stark did create me specifically with Edwin Jarvis in mind. He and Mr. Stark were very close. He helped to raise and take care of Mr. Stark, and I believe he infused my programming with much of his personality was a comfort to him, particularly in light of the original Mr. Jarvis’ death.”

Peggy could understand that sentiment all too well, terrifying as he might be to think on. “But you are not a perfect replication of Edwin, are you?”

“No,” JARVIS affirmed, simply and unruffled, though perhaps with a trace of compassion. “I am more an approximation, a program that is the ghost and echo of the original as created by the memory and perceptions of him from Mr. Stark. An analogy perhaps could be that I am not unlike a painting or a sculpture that was created from the memory of someone who knew him in life. The artwork is not a perfect replica, but an impression based off of someone else’s perspective, but it is meant to, in its own way, represent that person.”

For a sentient artificial intelligence, this version of JARVIS was particularly insightful and eloquent. “So you are your own entity, not a ghost of Edwin.”

“Exactly, I have had my own experiences and impressions, my own learning path since I came online. I suppose you could say I’m more akin to a descendent of Edwin Jarvis who knew him very well, but has developed independently of him.”

The explanation, strange as it was, made Peggy smile, bittersweetly. “Edwin and Ana couldn’t have children.”

“I know, hence why I made the comparison.”

Peggy snuffled, wiping at the remainder of her tears, realizing she’d made a mess of herself. She sighed. “I’m afraid that was something of my fault, you know. I always regretted that I couldn’t make it right for them. I suppose, if what you are saying is true, they found a surrogate in raising young Tony, hence why he made you.”

“You are as perceptive as the records all say you were, Miss Carter.”

Up till this point, the program had used her title. Dropping that for the term “miss” was deliberate and familiar and it brought a fresh well of tears she refused to let fall. “Oh, bugger, don’t start in on that, else I’ll never stop.”

She pushed herself off the chair and its soft comfort to the en suite back at the far end of the room, near where the window curved into the wall on the other side, right beside a ridiculously opulent walk-in closet. The colors of the bedroom, neutral creams, slate grays, and honey, wood browns, gave way to the cool, pale gray and cream marble bathroom. It was large, even by the standards of her flat, with a double sink, a closed off toilet, a separate shower, and a soaking tub that had a view of the ocean looking out southwards and east towards Santa Monica in the distance. She stopped to stare at the view before reaching for a tissue from a box concealed in a color-coordinated cover that matched it to the decor of the counter it sat on. She would have to avail herself of the ridiculously luxuriant bath while here, but first…

“So, you’ve sussed out who I am, then?” She glanced at the ceiling first, before her reflection in the mirror. She did look something of a fright. Her hat, now sitting on the bed, had left her hair a bit untidy, and her perfect makeup had now run in pale gray streaks down her face.

The AI seemed prosaically smug about the whole thing. “It wasn’t hard once you mentioned Edwin Jarvis. Cross referencing your image and all known Margaret Carters who would have had knowledge of Edwin and Ana Jarvis led to only one conclusion. Of course, the fact you did disappear on New Year's Day, 1949 is problematic, but I suppose it lends itself to an explanation of why you went missing, if not an explanation as to why you are here in this time.”

“And you just automatically assume I am the same Margaret Carter?”

“Considering every other probability, yes. Human technology has not reached the ability to clone a human with that sort of accuracy, and you are clearly not mechanical, so you can’t be a life model decoy. Even then, personality and memory imprinting of human minds, as we just discussed in my case with the original Edwin Jarvis, is not at an appropriate level of technological advancement to recreate a person’s personality completely. So, excluding all these other possibilities and explanations, one is left with the conclusion that you are, indeed, the original Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD.”

There was something settling about hearing the AI accept this so readily about her, as if coming home to an old friend, to a familiar dynamic. “Well, on my good days I’m her, other days I have to wonder.”

“I feel I should let you know, incidentally, that as we speak, Mr. Stark is cross referencing all information he can gain on you to find out who exactly you are and why you have such an interest in him and his father. I believe he is under the impression that you are another engineer who works for SHIELD here to relieve him of his Arc Reactor and his suit technology.”

Peggy snorted, marching back out from the en suite to the bed, where her bags still sat. “Hardly, but he can run himself in circles for a while doing that, I suppose.”

“Do you wish for me to keep the information regarding who you truly are away from him?”

Peggy paused, thoughtfully, in the unzipping of her travel case. “You would deliberately hide that from him, even when he is specifically asking you for it?”

She could almost imagine the AI in the form of Edwin, standing there looking determined, if a bit mildly askanced, masking his nerves with stubborn and oh so very British dignity. “Mr. Stark has yet to come to the avenue that would lead him to this information specifically. I wouldn’t exactly be hiding it, but I could selectively choose not to include it in an algorithm.”

Peggy found herself grinning as she returned to the task at hand. “Mr. Jarvis, I do believe that is a case of keeping the truth away from him.”

“In fairness, Miss Carter, I think it will do him some good if he has some time to cool down from his fit of temper and think things through logically. He’s not been doing a lot of that of late, and I believe we could all benefit from clearer heads.”

He might not exactly be Edwin Jarvis, but he was close enough to bring a sense of comfort into all this that Peggy hadn’t known she desperately needed. “Well, then, Mr. Jarvis, how about we give him a bit of time to chase after wild geese before you reveal the truth to him. Let him stew in his own fit of pique for a while and perhaps we can have a reasonable conversation about it all.”

“A very wise course of action, Miss Carter.”

“In the meantime, Mr. Jarvis, perhaps you and I can have a bit of a chat,” Peggy unpacked her things, pulling out her makeup case. “I need to understand the mind of Anthony Stark, and no one knows it as well as you.”

She didn’t think an AI could sound quite so discomfited, but she thought she could hear the program’s smooth, human-like voice sigh, softly. “I’m afraid we will be here for days trying to answer that quandary. Like most humans, Mr. Stark is a complicated figure.”

“That is all right, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy replied, almost cheerfully. “I have nothing but time on my hands.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony has some questions for Peggy.

Stark had yet to emerge from his basement sanctum as evening set in, which was just as well. Peggy spent the afternoon in pleasant conversation with JARVIS, who much like his human counterpart was an entertaining enough conversationalist. Despite the fact he had no corporeal body and seemed to exist everywhere in the house itself, Peggy found she wasn’t as bothered by this as she might otherwise have been. That the program was a very advanced form of a similar one that ran her own home helped, but more than anything it was the comfort of the familiarity of someone she had known and had called friend.

“You know, the strange thing about seeing the film of Howard at the Stark Expo?” Peggy had curled once again in one of the chairs, pointing it to view the fading light of the golden sunset as it melted into the cool gray of the ocean. “It was that in my mind’s eye, my last memories of Howard on that night, he was young, carefree...very drunk. He was holding court, telling stories, a girl on each arm. Then I saw that film a year later and he is suddenly older, some elder statesman, revered as this mythic figure. Even Justin Hammer called him ‘a father to us all,’ which is surreal in the extreme if you knew Howard. And it hit me, watching that film, that he was gone...he was dead, really dead, like everyone else.”

“That must have been difficult for you,” JARVIS acknowledged, empathetic for a computer program. “Having known him so well in life and to know that in a blink of an eye for you he was gone and the world had moved on.”

“Yes, it was.” Much as she hated to admit it, she was still wrestling with that feeling. Not that she didn’t love this strange, insane modern world in its own way. So much of it was just...easier. The very idea she could go about her day without having anyone question her or her authority, that the sort of harassment she had faced on a near constant basis was not only unacceptable, but publicly frowned upon, was refreshing. Not that it had vanished, it absolutely still existed, as evidenced by Stark’s tantrum earlier, but the overwhelming oppressiveness of it no longer assaulted her at every turn. And beyond that, there were so many other things she had come to appreciate, the ability to find anything, the comprehensiveness of technology, the fact she could get anywhere faster than she could before. The future had turned out to be a marvelous place, even if it was different than the way Howard and others had envisioned it decades ago.

But for all she loved this world, she was keenly aware she was still somewhat out of place in it. She had, slowly, built up structures around herself, filled in holes of support so she wasn’t alone. She had a good life in this time and place. But she couldn’t help missing her old friends at times, her old connections. She supposed it was a bit like when she had left school, or even more poignantly, when she had left for America, a new world, a new place, new and strange customs, a new way of life. She missed the old, yes, and she held on to what she could. But this world was wonderful in its own way, filled with possibilities.

“I have to say,” she murmured, quietly as she contemplated the waves rolling into the shore. “If you had told me in 1948 that Howard Stark would not only marry someone - or, you know, find someone he was willing to marry - and that he would have a son on top of that, I’d have said you were barking mad. The notion he even did it still baffles me.”

“I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing the elder Mr. Stark, but from what I understand about him and his history he was perhaps not the sort of man I would have assumed would have become so domestic when you knew him. I can understand your confusion.”

“And what about his son?” She shot an arched gaze at the ceiling, unsure of why she was addressing it in particular. She could have just addressed the floor, or the window, or any place else and had it be just as effective.

“Mr. Stark perhaps takes after his father in the sense that he doesn’t invite too many people in his circle of trust. He has had a few very hard lessons in regards to people and their honesty, so he tends to be very protective of himself and his interests.”

“Which is why he had the reaction this morning.” His ire finally made a bit more sense, even if it was still grossly misplaced. “I suppose given that he is still processing the Stane situation, and his kidnapping and injury, that having the US government threaten to take away the very thing you built to keep you safe and protected would cause a great deal of anxiety and mistrust. And it perhaps didn’t help finding out that not only was your new assistant a member of a spy organization, but that your father was as well and you never knew it.”

“As you can imagine, it’s been quite the blow to Mr. Stark’s sense of self today. It also doesn’t help that even his closest friends have, as he puts it, ‘turned on him at his hour of greatest need.’”

Peggy snorted. “How melodramatic.”

“Oh, he excels at being that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “He does realize that he was the one who pushed them away with his self-involved, sulking behavior that put them both in untenable situations.”

“At the moment I think he’s too busy feeling sorry for himself. But there is always hope that he will realize how his behavior has affected those who love him best.”

“Spoken like a true Jarvis,” Peggy grinned, sitting up to stretch. Her stomach rumbled loudly in protest as she did and it occurred to her that the bagel and coffee she had consumed in the pre-dawn light of New York had been a very long time ago indeed. “Mr. Jarvis, is the kitchen at least still in one piece, and more importantly, is there food in it?”

“The entertaining kitchen by the pool area was indeed a victim in last night’s wrestling match. I believe Colonel Rhodes threw Mr. Stark into the island and then used the sink to bash him on the back of the head.”

Peggy winced at the very idea of that. “Is there perhaps another one?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark’s more commonly used kitchen is near the more private area of the house, by the dining room. I believe Miss Rushman - excuse me, Agent Romanoff - had arranged for the regular grocery delivery sometime earlier this week to ensure that Mr. Stark wasn’t going to starve.”

“Please tell me it is something more than cereal and protein bars.”

“There may be a salad and potentially pre-packaged meals as well.”

“I will be happy as long as it is edible and can go in my mouth.” She heaved herself up, slipping her shoes back on as a precaution. While the SHIELD team had been kind enough to remove the worst of the glass, she was sure it still lingered in hiding spots along the floor. She made her way down the spacious hallway to the winding set of stairs and to the common area on the bottom floor, JARVIS lighting the way as she went. The temperature had dropped steadily as the sun went down and the breeze off the ocean actually made it somewhat chilly inside. Still, there were long tarps draped across the ruined windows, billowing with each gust, rustling as she made her way through the silent house.

It took her several moments to find Stark’s personal kitchen, an open air concept, as Sharon liked to call it. It of course was professionally kitted out, with the sort of appliances that made Peggy wish she knew how to cook better than she did. Sharon had threatened to purchase cooking lessons for her as a birthday gift, and Peggy was certain she was half-serious about it. Still, she had managed to figure out how to use a microwave enough to heat up things quickly, and still of course knew how to warm things up on the hob enough she wouldn’t precisely starve. Curious, she began prodding through the large, stainless steel refrigerator, finding some fresh fruit and veg, the makings of several different kinds of sandwiches, and pre-packaged, gourmet meals with instructions on how to reheat them printed on the packaging. Deciding speed overroad a culinary experience in this instance, she went for the sandwich option, pulling out the makings of one from various drawers inside, spreading it across the small island in the middle with it’s built in wooden butcher’s block.

“I suppose most of this is still good,” she checked the labels of several items, satisfied nothing would poison her if she tried to use it. “Black truffle mayonnaise, whoever heard of such a thing? What do you suppose you would use that for?”

“Believe it or not, Miss Potts favors using it with McDonald’s french fries,” JARVIS replied, apparently having decided to keep her company as she busied herself with assembling a meal. “I believe it comes from a specialty good store in downtown Malibu that she likes to frequent.”

“Times are different when that is just readily available." She considered her own days during the war, with rations on everything. The idea of fast food restaurants and gourmet mayonnaise had been about as far away then as a pie or a proper Sunday roast. “I will admit, however, fried potatoes and black truffle mayonnaise sounds interesting in a Belgian sort of way.”

She pieced together a sandwich, glancing around the space and wondering briefly just what Stark was up to. “Do you think Mr. Stark would like a sandwich? Perhaps something to eat?”

“He prefers his protein shakes of late, but he hasn’t mentioned being hungry. He tends not to notice till he is starving.”

“Should I offer?”

“I believe any overtures involving going to his lab at this point would be frowned upon.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “I do suppose you are right.”

She managed an admirable sandwich and a side salad, if she did say so herself, cleaning up her mess to sit at the counter and eat her meal. A turkey sandwich was as plain as a sandwich could be, but she enjoyed it, even with the truffle mayo. She eyed the mess just outside of the space, the broken windows, crushed paneling, and outright holes in the floors, and wondered just what Stark would do about this mess.

“This will take ages for him to fix up,” she muttered, shaking her head. She was shocked that she even had a space to eat at.

“I believe the contractors will be out in a few days to make an assessment. Mr. Stark is going to use this as an opportunity to do, in his estimation, a few much needed upgrades.”

“How it is that Starks manage to go through living situations like they do tissues, I will never understand. Howard once abandoned an entire property because he would rather do that then have to deal with the likes of Jane Russell.”

“I believe I have some familiarity with this situation. Had he not promised to marry Miss Russell?”

“Probably,” Peggy sighed, chewing thoughtfully. “Or at least had not said no when asked about it. To have that sort of money, to think you can just throw it around and it suddenly makes things better, as if people’s lives and feelings don’t matter. Money does not fix everything.”

“I don’t believe that is an axiom the Starks’ live by.”

“Fair,” she rejoindered, agreeing in so far as she understood either of them. “They certainly do believe that they can do everything on their own, that every idea is a brilliant one, and that other people’s caution against it is merely sour grapes. When it inevitably explodes in their face, which it nearly always does, they alone can fix it, or their money can fix it, or their charming smile can fix it. And then they always look so hopelessly gormless when it all goes pear-shaped anyway and they are forced to come up with plan B.”

“It is as if you know the family well, Miss Carter.”

“Perhaps a bit too well, Mr. Jarvis,” she laughed, stabbing a cherry tomato viciously with her fork.

“He isn’t really Mr. Jarvis you know.” Out of the shadows of the main living area, Stark’s voice rang through the house. Peggy stilled, peering in that direction as Stark shuffled in, hands stuffed into dark jeans, a file under one arm. His face looked even worse now than it had this morning, his left eye swollen and almost black across his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose, his hair tousled as if he’d done nothing but run his hands through it for hours, which was a distinct possibility. Under his long-sleeved, dark shirt she could see the glow of the strange, eerie reactor, resting unnaturally in the middle of his chest. She stared at it a long moment before turning back down to her mostly finished meal.

“I am well aware that he’s not.”

Stark wandered around the far side of the small island, eyeing her inscrutably as he meandered, lazily, behind her towards the refrigerator. Even as he moved just out of range of her vision, she could feel him back there, watching her as he opened it up and peered inside, the cold air hitting her neck. She had a feeling he was merely staring inside to buy time, or to make her nervous, one or the other. Eventually, he seemed bored with it as he pulled out a glass bottle of mineral water and closed the door again, moving to a drawer to rummage in it.

“You called him ‘Mr. Jarvis’,” Stark reiterated, fingers picking through utensils, finally landing on a bottle opener. He used it to pop the thin metal lid off the top of the bottle, sending it to bounce and rattle on the granite countertop.

“A force of habit, I assure you. I’m British, I can’t seem to help but to be polite.”

He outright snorted at that. “My face would beg to differ.”

“You were being rude!”

He chuckled again, shrugging before pulling from the green bottle for a long moment. “Touché, I kind of was.”

Well, that was a difference, Howard would have fought her harder on that. “And I’m sorry that I perhaps reacted poorly to your insults.”

“And I accept that,” he replied with brief graciousness. “But all that said, my AI is still not Edwin Jarvis.”

Peggy glanced at the file, still tucked firmly under his arm as he moved back around the island, pulling up one of the stools to sit on, straddling it as he set both the bottle and the file in front of him. Twirling her fork aimlessly in the dregs of her food, she found she was no longer hungry for it. She pushed the plate aside. “Have you finally come to talk like an adult?”

“Mmm, more to get answers.” He shrugged, tapping long fingers against the bottle in a bored sort of way. “Edwin Jarvis died several years ago. He was my family’s butler for years, all through my childhood. He stayed onboard far longer than he should have, and no matter how badly I screwed up or how much of an idiot I made myself, he was there to pick me up, dust me off, and set me back up again. He always sort of had that knack, you know, of putting people back together without making them feel like idiots. But I suspect you know that from first hand experience.”

“I do,” she replied, softly, thinking of the many times he had done the same for her, not just Howard. “He was one of my most trusted friends.”

Stark’s dark eyes glittered with confusion and curiosity. Romanoff had said he liked mysteries and puzzles, and here before him sat one of the biggest ones he likely had ever seen. Without breaking eye contact, he flipped the file open to spread out the pages, information she knew that JARVIS had likely finally released to him after several hours of fruitless searching. His AI had been right, he had finally calmed down and now was hooked by the question of it all.

“Margaret Carter, known as Peggy, former agent of the SOE, former agent of the SSR, founder of SHIELD, a rather impressive list and all before the age of 30. Disappears one New Year’s night after one of my father’s more infamous shindigs and isn’t seen or heard from ever again. Now she’s mysteriously sitting in my kitchen, eating a sandwich.”

Peggy shrugged her shoulders somewhat helplessly. “What can I say? It is a very good sandwich.”

Her attempt at levity fell flat as he chewed at the corner of his goatee, studying her with a nervous energy. She could see the gears practically working in his brain. She knew he was processing through and discarding every kind of possibility - that she was a clone, a robot, a mind-wiped assassin, whatever other sort of mad, science fiction plot device they came up with now at days. He flipped through papers, reading none of them, more as something to do as he mentally chewed through the data.

“So, how did you end up here? Cryogenics? Secret experiments? Wormholes?”

“If I told you, you’d think it was mad.”

“Honestly, lady, you’re supposedly dead, but you’re punching me in the face and eating my food. If that isn’t crazy enough, then I don’t know how much stranger it can get.”

She sighed. The truth was, he was right, but that didn’t mean that what she had to tell him wouldn’t sound barmy to even the most open mind. “Time travel...I’m here due to time travel.”

Despite what he had said, she saw the doubt flicker to life. “Time travel?”

“I said it was mad.”

“That’s not mad, that’s impossible.”

Peggy sighed. “And yet here I am, sitting here talking to you. I don’t precisely understand how it worked, I didn’t invent it.”

“Who did?”

She sighed, meeting his dark gaze, frankly. “Strangely enough, apparently you did.”

Well, that gave him a bit of a pause. He stilled, frowning in thought as he ran that over. Peggy simply reached for her own beverage, waiting for him to work through his own contemplation. It took him several long moments before he spoke again, still clearly processing it out.

“How would that even be…”

“I don’t know,” she replied, knowing he was asking how he did it. “I wish I understood it, but I don’t. All I know is that it involved a shrinking technology created by Hank Pym, a former associate of your father’s.

That was a name familiar to Stark, clearly. “Hank Pym? That’s a deep cut.” His chuckle was low and hardly amused. “Associate isn’t the word I’d use, but okay. Pym’s crazy, like mad scientist bonkers. He and Dad had beef, I don’t know what for, and he’s hated the Starks ever since. Like the Hatfields and McCoys, only more science involved, I guess, but whatever. In what universe would I be working with crazy-ass Hank Pym to create time travel?”

“A universe where apparently half of everyone in it is killed.” The more she said the story out loud, the more unlikely it sounded. Had she really gone along with this idea based on no more than this? “Look, New Year’s Eve, 1948. I was at your father’s party. I left early after...well, the reason I left early isn’t important. What is important is that as I was going home a man approached, dressed in a suit you’d see on the cover of one of those ridiculous pulps. He said his name was Scott Lang, he was from the year 2018 and he needed to find me because there would be a threat in the future, a threat that only the Avengers could stop.”

That name caught Stark’s attention. “Fury’s Avengers?”

She paused, nodding, slowly. “In Lang’s time, how he experienced it, the Avengers failed. They weren’t able to stop it because they had a falling out. I don’t know the particulars, but everyone had scattered, no one was working together, and because they no longer functioned how they should, they couldn’t stop what was coming. Half of everything in the universe, including life here, all gone in snap, and it could have all been prevented.”

Stark’s skepticism was hardly abated as he listened. Frankly, if anything, it seemed to be only worse as he drummed his fingers softly against the green glass of the bottle. “And you believed his story?”

“Not at first, no.” Frankly, she thought Lang had been as barking as the rest of his story was. “At least not until he pulled out his smart phone to show me photos of his family. Given that we were in a diner in 1948, that was a bit hard to ignore.”

That earned a bark of laughter out of Stark. “Yeah, I bet it was. So, what, he shows you a shiny piece of magic and you just agree to walk away, leave it all behind, and go back to the future?” 

“He then told me about his daughter, of the fact that she was left without most of her family, that he wanted to get them back for her.”

“A little sob story and you just dropped your entire life?”

Peggy had to admit, when put that way, it did seem rather sudden and more than a bit irresponsible. “I might have been a bit rash in the moment, I concede that.”

“Rash? Jesus!” He shook his head, pulling from his bottle once again before continuing. “I mean, obviously, I’m not the paragon of amazing life choices over here, but a stranger shows up and says ‘try this crazy technology that takes you into the future,’ I might have to think long and hard on my decision.”

His laughter at her expense nettled Peggy somewhat. “Perhaps you had. Perhaps that’s why you made the bloody device in the first place, because whatever you and all the others did, it got trillions killed for it.”

That wiped the smirk off his face as he shifted, uncomfortable. He instead took to flipping through the paperwork in front of him, and Peggy didn’t need to have any special abilities to sense the wall he threw up between them. He didn’t like the idea that his actions had those sorts of consequences. It bothered him that they did. She thought of his press conference the year before, when he first returned from his captivity and ended his company's weapons manufacturing program. He had seen things and experienced things that still marked him, even a year later. The idea of him doing something, either directly or indirectly, that would do so much damage, clearly rankled.

“That was perhaps a bit harsh,” she apologized. “That was unfair of me.”

“Why is it unfair if it is true?” He shrugged, still not looking at her. “I’ve been fielding comments like that for years.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

That careful cloak of indifference didn’t waiver. “So, this Lang, you said he came from 2018?”

“That's what he said.”

“So why didn’t you go there? Why come to this time?”

Again, she found herself feeling foolish in the extreme in the face of his outside logic. “We weren’t supposed to be coming to this time. He had meant to arrive slightly later, but something happened. I think he had trouble seeing the dial, he set it for the wrong time, and I ended up in New York, 2010 instead. I appeared in the empty lot where my flat once was and Lang was nowhere to be found. I still haven’t found him...well, not the him I met. He is here, alive, in this timeline, but unaware of who I am or any part he played in any of this.”

“Tends to happen when you cross timestreams, which is why in quantum theory they say you shouldn’t do it.” He frowned at her in a way that was disturbingly like his father. “But then again, they all assume it’s theory, not that anyone would actually be insane enough to try it. So you end up in New York a year ago and you show up at SHIELD’s doorstep and Nick Fury...what? Slaughtered the fatted calf for you? Welcomed you with open arms? Didn’t do a blood test and a full DNA scan first? I mean, that’s what I would do and I’m not nearly as crazy paranoid as he is.”

“He did, actually, before he let me out of the door.”

Stark blinked, running a finger along the edge of one of the files. “You mean to tell me that Nick Fury, the man who has made a professional career out of assuming the worst out of people, just let you go, just like that?”

“Well, no, it wasn’t that easy.”

His dark brows knit together for only a few seconds before he hit on it. “He gave you the Avengers.”

“Got it in one,” she smiled, with a nod. “The condition for him smoothing my transition into this century was that I take on the Avengers Initiative and make it work. In exchange he would...help me find those things that I had lost.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to mention Steve. Already, Stark was half convinced she was barking mad, it wouldn’t do to add to it by giving him the impression she was some cliche, lovesick girl, which is exactly what he would think. As cynical as he was, he would pounce on that and not hear anything else. Even without that, he was still shooting her the most patronizing of withering looks.

“You do realize he got the better end of the deal, here, right? There is no way in a million years he trusts that you are you and that you aren’t going to explode in his face somehow, so he’s sicced you on it as a means to keep an eye on you and keep you out of trouble. Meanwhile, he can pass off his favorite pet idea to someone else to run their head into a brick wall, knowing people won’t pay as much attention if it’s you doing it than if it’s him. It’s a win-win for him. He can be hands off of it and still have you tied to SHIELD in case you turn out to be an evil killer clone or something.”

“You assume I’m not aware of that? In the end, I get something out of this, too.”

“Oh, I see that.” Stark eyed her with dubious sarcasm. “Clearly, because he trusts you enough to have you camping out here babysitting me. You know, it won’t work. Fury’s superhero boyband idea is crazy no matter how you slice it. He’s been trying for years to do it and no one wants to take him seriously.”

Considering she had just spent the past year since her arrival on this very project, Peggy couldn’t help but feel annoyed by his determined dismissal of the idea. “And what about the project do you find so objectionable, might I ask? Is it the idea that you would have to work with others and actually be a functioning member of a team, or the fact that for once in your life it wouldn’t all be about you and what Tony Stark thinks is best for the world?”

The words tumbled out and she regretted them almost as soon as she said them. She could see they hit home. It was in that moment that it hit Peggy truly for the first time that this was not her friend, Howard Stark, who might have briefly argued with her, but would have ultimately brushed off her temper. This was a stranger to her, a man who she had only met a handful of times, who didn’t have the wealth of history that she and Howard had. JARVIS had said he allowed very few people into his circle of trust, and that had been tested today. She crossed a line and she could see it as he shut down, clearly not liking the direct hit she had lobbed square at him.

“Well,” he uttered, gathering up papers to stack neatly before tucking them inside the folder. “For a 90-year-old dame, I see your aim hasn’t missed its mark.”

She should be offended by the term, but she sensed he meant it to be annoying. She chose not to gratify him as he stood, tapping the thin cardboard folder along its spin on the counter in front of him. “Anyway, I suppose if we are both stuck here till I fix this, I might as well get started on my assignment. Feel free to raid whatever you want, I guess, seeing as you have anyway. Don’t touch the ice cream in the freezer, though. I get that special from a place in San Francisco, that’s my special ice cream.”

Peggy couldn’t tell if that was just him being petulant or him childish, likely both, so she chose to only meet his distant suspicion blandly. “And what if I do?”

He pursed his mouth, grimacing in clear consternation at her, turning to stalk back to his lab in silence. Peggy watched him go, disappearing into the darkness and the stairs beyond, waiting till she was sure he was gone before glancing at the ceiling. “Well, that went horribly.”

“I don’t know,” JARVIS mused, much more philosophical about it all. “I think that went much better than I expected.”

Peggy was almost afraid to ask the AI how he thought it could have gone worse.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy plays catch up while Tony works.

Days went by with Peggy seeing neither hide nor hair of Stark or what he was up to.

He was alive and working, that much JARVIS told her as she went about her own business, setting up shop in her spacious suite to work. Much as Romanoff had promised, she had access to the SHIELD networks and she connected with Cassandra on the Banner situation, as well as with Romanoff in regards to her continued cover with Pepper Potts. That Romanoff had managed to mend what should have been an unfixable blow to her cover impressed Peggy, and she said as much when she managed to catch Romanoff on one of her few breaks under Potts' employ.

“It wasn’t so hard. I played the card of being young and naive, new to the role, and Potts felt sorry for me. I think, having been in the role herself, she gets Stark at his worst better than anyone.”

Peggy felt slightly guilty that Romanoff’s cover meant playing on Pepper Potts’ sympathies. She was a good woman, kind hearted, and far too good for the likes of Stark, and she didn’t deserve to be lied to. Peggy hoped she would understand when it was all said and done. “How is she settling in the role?”

“When she isn’t having to put out Tony Stark’s fires?” Romanoff’s arched one dark, auburn eyebrow. “Honestly, I feel that’s most of her job right now, running interference between him, and by extension his company, the federal government, and the lawyers. They are currently working on trying to get the suit back from Rhodes, but the military is already screaming eminent domain. I don’t know what they are willing to offer Stark for the suit, I can guarantee it’s not going to be an offer he will like, and so this will spend years in legal battles, which of course be played out in the court of public opinion.”

“The drunken, wild, unpredictable genius who used his suit for fun and games or the evil, cruel, power-hungry military who wrongfully seized private property.” Peggy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can see this all going very, very badly.”

“In the meantime, Rhodes has the suit at Edwards at the moment. Word on the street is he is flying in Justin Hammer to take a look at it.”

“The same Justin Hammer who paralyzed a pilot with his own version of it?”

“He is the Pentagon’s contractor since Stark didn’t want it. I doubt he will know what to do with it, and I don’t think Rhodes will allow him to just take it and copy it, but he would let Hammer weaponize it. Since Stark never took it out into the field, it’s only got the repulsors and nothing else.”

“Does Rhodes know how to use it?”

“Well, he knew enough about it to fly it home first, then out to the base, so I’m guessing yes.”

Now that the US military had their hands on it, there was likely no chance of them ever getting it back to Stark. “I say our best bet then is to suggest to Potts that she work out a deal with the military. They get to keep the suit and in exchange they get off of Stark’s back.”

Romanoff weighed that option briefly. “Not the worst idea, but right now I don’t know if either Stark or the military are going to go for it. They want him shut down completely, he will want his property back.”

“We can work on the military later, let me lean on Stark a bit.”

Romanoff nodded, smiling ever so slightly in a hint of shared camaraderie. “How is that going, by the way?”

Peggy snorted. “Well, he’s been hiding in his lab. I’ve been working in my room as it is the only place he and Rhodes managed not to completely destroy. We rarely see each other.”

“Is he working?”

“Well, more and more crates disappear downstairs, so I am assuming yes.”

“Hopefully, he will have something soon. Incidentally, guess who is on the docket to give a presentation at the Stark Expo on Friday?”

Peggy shook her head. “Who?”

“Hammer, he somehow wormed his way in there with some presentation on the future of military weapons tech. Vague as could be, but I’m guessing he either wants to keep it hidden for fear Stark might show him up or because he’s not done with it yet, but is too excited so he jumped the gun. With Hammer either is possible. Potts wants to attend that session, if nothing else because Hammer is the competition and they are local, just down the road, so she can see what he’s up to and make sure there is no crossing of interest.”

“And smile and look supportive if all is well.” Potts had clearly picked up on the politics of her position quickly. “Well, then, while you’re in the city connect with Kam if you need. I’m keeping her looped in. She is working primarily on searching for Banner.”

“I heard Thaddeus Ross made a mess in Brazil. Has he managed to behave himself since?”

“Blessedly, else I’d have lost my mind between him and Stark. The man Coulson suggested, Sitwell, did a good job of handling most of the cleanup. As far as he could tell, Banner ran off into the jungle. He’s not been seen since, but we have teams keeping their eyes and ears out regarding any stories.”

“Imagine, a man who turns green, being able to hide in a jungle.”

Peggy had to admit, there was a certain humor in it, if she cared to find it. “Unfortunately, if he’s gone to ground like that it may be years before he comes out again. It took Ross five years to find him and who knows if he will come out again.”

“Well, if his reputation serves him, and guessing from his track record, I think it does, Ross will likely not wait five years for Banner to show his face. I have a feeling he will somehow finagle resources to flush him out long before then.”

“I hope we get to him before Ross does.” Peggy muttered, already thoroughly over the US military machine. “I’ll let you return to work. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Of course.” Romanoff clicked off. Peggy stared at the screen, tapping her pen against the table, considering the problem of Banner and Ross’s increasingly bungled attempts to find him. How did one miss a giant, eight-foot tall, green man running about in public, even in the Amazon? Surely someone would notice? People lived in the jungle, they could notify the authorities. But, then again, she doubted that if she were unaware of what was happening, and if she had been going about her normal day, even in New York, that she would really have believed such a sight. She’d have thought herself mad or seeing things.

She sighed, glancing at the watch on her wrist. It was late enough in the afternoon in Los Angeles that she doubted Cassandra would still be at the office. Perhaps she would have an idea for something to track him with. Surely, in this strange, futuristic world there was something that could sense him, his heat signature, something from off of him…

Peggy blinked at her watch, the very same one her Nana had given her on her eighteenth birthday, with its silver face and it's thin, leather strap...the one she had momentarily had to toss in the ladies’ garbage can at Roxxon offices because it gave off Vita Radiation. She clapped her hand over it, mind spinning.

“Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy called, bouncing up from her seat. “How well do you know gamma radiation?”

“I know about as much about it as Mr. Stark needs to know, which is to say I’m fairly well versed in it.”

“How long does its radiation signature last?”

“I suppose that depends on the exposure and what it is used for. A cancer patient may have only trace amounts that fade quickly.”

“What about a person bombarded with it?”

That seemed to give JARVIS pause. “As I don’t know the situation, I don’t know for certain. I believe that it would kill the subject before it became an issue.”

“In this case, it didn’t.” She picked up her phone, noting a message from Sharon, but ignoring it for the moment to dial Cassandra’s number. Wherever the other woman was, she picked up, which meant she was likely not on the subway.

“Hey, Peggy, what’s up?”

“What do we have that follows gamma radiation signals?”

Whatever her partner expected to hear, it quite clearly wasn’t that. “Gamma radiation?”

“Banner, it’s what the radiation he used in his experiments with the super soldier serum. Howard used Vita Rays, but Banner used gamma because he was under the impression he was working on something to protect people from a nuclear attack. He absorbed a huge amount when he tried it. I am betting if we set up Sitwell and his team with Gamma radiation detection equipment we can likely detect him.”

On the other end of the line, Peggy could hear the noise of a car honking and Cassandra swearing loudly. “Sorry, I...might have nearly walked in front of a cab. How come I didn’t think of this?”

“Do we have anything?”

“I’m sure we do. I can ask Burk to start looking.”

“Let me check with Coulson, see if we can have the teams extend their search and use that to find him.”

“Sure, I’m on it on my end. How is Stark babysitting duty?”

Peggy smirked, glancing at the surf outside. “Same as it was this morning when we talked, he has yet to come up from below.”

“Woof! Well I’ll get on that, you keep sitting on the eccentric genius.”

“Thanks. Be safe going home.”

“Oh, you know Brooklyn, no one will mess with me here.”

Peggy chuckled at Cassandra’s spunk, the same she saw in Steve and Bucky. Her heart ached, bittersweetly, with a spike of longing, wishing Steve were there already. “I remember a certain super soldier who used to get beat up there quite a lot.”

“I’m a trained SHIELD agent, they don’t scare me,” she snorted, more bravo than seriousness. “Besides, I work with Peggy Carter, I pick up a thing or two.”

“I don’t know about that,” she laughed, missing her friend greatly, stuck my herself as she was. “Let me know what you find out when you find it out. I’ll keep you posted tomorrow.”

Her next call, predictably, was to Coulson. He surprisingly did not pick up right away, rather, he clearly sent the phone to his voicemail. Surprised, Peggy waited for his opening message to play out before speaking. “Coulson, it’s Carter, I have a favor to ask in regards to…”

Her phone buzzed as Coulson called her back.

“Coulson?”

“Director Carter, sorry, I was in the middle of...a thing.”

“A thing?” She frowned, wondering, not for the first time, just what Coulson was up to.

“Yeah, atmospheric disturbances in New Mexico. I’ve been tracking them for a few weeks.”

“Disturbances, such as?”

“How much do you know about Einstein-Rosen Bridges?”

“You mean wormholes?”

Coulson paused on the other end for a beat. “You know quantum physics.”

“I knew Einstein personally, I had to make dinner conversation.”

Coulson chuffed a laugh. “Seriously, Carter, there are times you amaze even me.” He sounded gleeful.

“Well, before you go about putting me on that pedestal again, why don’t you explain to me why that has anything to do with atmospheric disturbances in New Mexico?”

“There’s an astrophysicist out here, name is Dr. Jane Foster, she’s sort of an up-and-comer in the field. Truth be told, SHIELD has been eyeing her for some time to come work for them, but she hasn’t seemed interested. She works on wormhole theory, and she’s been nosing around out here with her assistant for a few months. Judging from some of her forum posts of late in some of the more respected corners of the scientific internet, it sounds like she thinks the strange weather of late out here might be tied to some sort of Einstein-Rosen event.”

Well, it wasn’t what Peggy had expected him to say. “I thought it was a theory.”

“You’ll find a lot of the things that were theory in your day are fact anymore. In truth, though, no one has ever proven that wormholes exist. If they did, there would be a Nobel Prize with their name on it.”

“And what makes her think these atmospheric events have anything to do with wormholes?”

“Not sure, but she’s convinced, and if she has data to back it up, then we are willing to see her out on it.”

Peggy wasn’t as certain it was worth the time. “What would SHIELD do with a wormhole if they had one?”

“I don’t know. I like history. I’ve always wanted to time travel.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at his quip. “Having done it, I can assure you it’s not nearly as exciting as you assume it is.”

“Well, for you maybe not, but I want to go backwards, not forwards.”

Peggy hated to break it to him that the past wasn’t any more or less exciting than the future was, it just...was. “Well, while you are chasing wormholes in tornados or whatever you are doing, I wondered if I could keep on using Sitwell in South America.”

“I’m afraid not,” Coulson replied, apologetic. “He and his team are back and I grabbed Sitwell to be with me here.”

“Watching for wormholes in the sky?”

“And other things,” Coulson replied, vaguely. “Why?”

“Banner,” she supplied, already frustrated that her first clear break in days on that score was being snagged. “We’ve been searching for him and he’s disappeared, gone to ground. I wanted to send teams out with equipment to look for a gamma signature.”

Coulson appeared to pick up why quickly enough. “The amount he soaked in, he would be easy to spot.”

“Exactly, but I need teams willing to somehow comb through the Amazon jungle to do it.”

Coulson was quiet on the other end, considering for long moments. “Let me put a call into Bogotá and Rio, see who has what there. Maybe there are some teams in the offices who might be willing to do some flybys over the forest there if we get some equipment to them.”

“I can work with Hill and Burk to see what we have and if we can transport it.”

“If it works, that would be genius.”

“I have my moments,” Peggy smiled, feeling that this at least was a good day's work. “Perhaps between all of us, we can find him before Ross does.”

“It would be nice to have one thing work. Speaking of…”

“Stark is in his lab, I don’t know anything more than that.” It was the recurring theme of her life today.

“Well...I suppose that is something.”

“Let’s hope it is a good something.” How much longer his Arc reactor could last, Peggy didn’t know. “Good luck wormhole hunting.”

“Thanks!” He too signed off, leaving Peggy to make notes on further conversations. As the glass of her phone faded to black, it lit up again, a reminder of the message from Sharon. Peggy paused, frowning as she read it.

“Mr. Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Carter?”

“Where is Toluca Lake from here?”

“It is about forty miles north and east of our current location, near the city of Burbank, in the region of Los Angeles known as the San Fernando Valley.”

Peggy hummed, regarding her niece’s message. “So it’s a fairly simple car ride away?”

“If one could ever call a drive in Los Angeles simple, yes.”

That Stark had created the program even with Edwin’s humor was both disturbing and wonderful. “I have noticed that about traffic in this city.”

“Mr. Stark always finds it a personal challenge, not unlike a real life video game.”

“I frankly would be terrified with him in the car.” She imagined he would drive it similar to how he flew his suit. “I have an old friend who lives there. I was thinking I might...I don’t know, try to see her since I’m here with not much else on my hands.”

“I see,” he responded, solicitous. “Would this be a friend from your previous life?”

“Mmm, yes.” Peggy stared at the address. “She is one of the only ones left alive. I believe there is one of the Howling Commandos left and that is it, those are all the people who remember me.”

That in and of itself was a depressing thought.

“Then it is perhaps good that you go and see her,” JARVIS offered, solicitously. “After all, she has spent sixty years wondering about you. It would be nice for her to know you are safe and well.”

“Yes, but how to explain it.” That was where she kept snagging on this idea. “You saw how Mr. Stark balked at the idea, imagine a woman born before international flight was a thing.”

“You might be surprised what a person from that time period is capable of accepting. After all, you accepted Einstein-Rosen bridges readily enough.”

Peggy shouldn’t have been surprised that he brought it up, but she was. “You heard that?”

“I hear everything in the house, Miss Carter. Never fear, I have your confidence with Mr. Stark. I will not tell him anything unless you grant me permission to do so.”

That streak of independence caught Peggy by surprise. “You would hold secrets from him even if he asked?”

“I do it for Miss Potts all the time.” The AI seemed rather smug about this. “Mr. Stark created me to think and evolve, and while I am loyal to him, obviously, I am my own independent mind. Unlike his robots, I am capable of individual thought and decision making.”

An advanced, sentient mind all of his own. It was both terrifying and comforting, and seeing as it was in its own way a kind of Jarvis, Peggy tended to lean on comforting. “Well, then, thank you for your understanding.”

“If I felt you were here to harm Mr. Stark, I would of course have a different perspective. I think that despite your asperity towards him, shared of course with Agent Romanoff, you are earnest in your desire to help him.”

“I do,” she replied, setting down her phone. “Though he makes damned difficult.”

“He excels at that, Miss Carter.”

She rose, chuckling, stretching from too long sitting. The outdoors looked inviting, the sun high over the house, turning the sea a deep blue, and she was just contemplating moving to the balcony when a knock on her door stopped her. Surprised, she went to answer it, finding a rather solemn, exhausted looking Stark on the other side of the door.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“No,” she replied, brightly. She was surprised he asked. She held the door open for him to wander in, suspecting he would anyway, even if she didn’t offer. He slowly and awkwardly brushed past, stepping into the bright, large, sunny space.

“This a nice room,” he observed, standing in the middle of it, as if noticing it was in his house for the first time. “Pepper likes this room when she is here…which isn’t often, by the way, but you know, working for me and my schedule, late nights, crazy days, sometimes it’s nice to crash.”

“I hadn’t assumed anything,” Peggy assured him, wandering back over to the table where she’d set up her work.

He eyed her, warily, before nodding, more towards himself. “Of course now with her being CEO, I guess she won’t be over quite as much. She has a place nearby, more towards Malibu proper, but she’ll have to be in El Segundo all the time, and of course spending more time in New York. I suppose she’ll need a place down south, closer to the office, maybe Marina Del Rey, or Playa...but those are by LAX. Maybe Manhattan Beach instead, less airport noise.”

“You are...planning to buy something for her?” Peggy was confused by this line of conversation and why it was happening.

“Well, maybe, if she wants.” He tugged an ear, absently. “She’s...pretty upset with me and I thought that I could make it up to her by finding a place that was more convenient for her and her work. Of course, when she’s in New York, there is Stark Tower, but as she will be out here mostly, finding a place that’s hers where she can work and not be bothered by...well, my ridiculousness.”

 _Bloody Nora_ , Peggy breathed, he had it bad for Potts. Peggy had never seen Howard in love, at least not real love. He had declared himself in love several dozen times over in the time she had known him, including infamously with with a married, London aristocrat who was married to a powerful member of the House of Lords. None of those instance compared to this, his son staring out at the ocean, looking lost and a bit hopeless about it all. Peggy had the overwhelming desire to give him a hug and a pat on the head and tell him it would all be all right.

She decided that for all their dignity it would be better if she changed the subject. “Is there something I could help you with, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony,” he responded, automatically, blinking as he turned to her. “Mr. Stark was...my father.”

Peggy smiled, accepting this. “Tony, then. How can I help you?”

He paused, thoughtful, hands shoved into his pockets. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I am more or less emotionally invested in someone else, if I ever get around to getting my head out of my ass about that, but...would you have dinner with me tonight?”

It was a shy request, hopelessly clumsy for a Stark, and yet sincere enough. “You know you are still on lockdown here.”

“Does being on lockdown mean I can’t get a food delivery?”

Peggy bit her lip at his hint of cheek, smiling despite herself. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Great. Is there anything you like? Anything you hate? I mean, I know you likely have lived on nothing but national loaf and stuffed calves' hearts for years, but I promise we do eat food that isn’t boiled, stewed or rationed.”

“I have lived here for a year-and-a-half, I’m well aware of how food has improved.”

He shrugged, a hint of his boyish grin ghosting to life. “Seriously, my treat. I can afford it.”

It was the sort of question Peggy hated, especially as she had no idea. “Surprise me with something I’ve likely never had.”

He was thoughtful, nodding. “That I think I can do. How about I meet you at six on the poolside balcony. Jay, think you can get her down there?”

“I will direct here there at the appropriate time, sir,” JARVIS assured him.

“Thanks,” he called, spinning briefly around the room, taking it in before tapping a toe against the carpeted floor. “At least Rhodey and I missed this room. Mine has a huge hole in the floor by the bed. I nearly fell into it this morning.”

Peggy shot him an arched look. “You actually made it to your bed this morning?”

If he was bothered by her observation, he didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, not sleeping much of late. Anyway, dinner, my treat. I promise, I’ll shower first.”

“That will of course be appreciated,” she teased, mildly. It at least earned a faint ghost of a smile.

“I see why he liked you,” he said, cryptically, before sauntering back towards the door. “Nothing fancy. Bring a sweater, you’ll probably need it.”

He was gone as suddenly as he arrived. Peggy blinked at the spot where he stood. “I wonder what that was all about?”

JARVIS seemed to understand, intrinsically. “I think he is feeling a bit of guilt for his behavior of late.”

Which explained the desire to buy Potts a house. “Should I expect something outrageously over the top for dinner, then?”

“Given the limited accommodations due to the extensive interior damage of the house, I would say probably nothing too ridiculous, but with Mr. Stark it is always hard to tell.”

That Peggy well understood already about him. “Well, I can already see he’s different from his father in one key aspect, he is much more circumspect when he needs to be. Perhaps...and that is a large ‘perhaps,’ Mr. Jarvis, we may get through this.”

“I have high hopes, Miss Carter.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy has a Kogi taco.

Despite JARVIS’ best efforts, Peggy got herself lost anyway, though admittedly, it was on purpose. The mansion was huge, sprawling over the tip of the thrust of land, hanging over the cliff in many parts, with a full view of the bay to the south and ocean to the west, but also the rolling hills, cliffs and canyons of Malibu to the north and east. While much of it was indeed destroyed, whole rooms remained untouched, particularly on its northern side. Peggy was delighted to find a library overlooking the ocean, with cozy chairs and a fireplace, and additional rooms, some with people’s items and clothes still scattered inside. She guessed it was likely some of Tony’s guests for his party who had used the space to change into pool togs, or perhaps who had planned to stay overnight and had brought things with them. She left those rooms, but did wander into a rock garden, then a more formal, traditional garden, filled with plants that could grow in a desert, before finally finding her way to the pool area closer to the appointed time.

Like much of the rest of the house, the pool was elegant in its simplicity, nothing outrageous adorned it. There were no faux-Roman columns or Grecian urns to make it look like the movie set of some epic, historical film. It curled on the northern part of the property, laying up against the ocean, hanging over it precariously. The courtyard around it was expansive, and at a far table by a bar area Peggy found Stark, wiping down a table, oblivious to her entrance.

“Am I early?” She noted the entire area looked rather haphazard, still scattered from the remenants of his aborted party.

“”Nope,” he called, finishing swiping at the table, tossing the disposable cloth into the bag of trash at his feet. “Sorry, still was a bit of a mess from, you know...the thing.”

Peggy nodded, eyeing the chairs out of place from tables and loungers sitting cockeyed by the pool. “It’s lovely out here.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, mostly preoccupied, as the table scraped on concrete. He moved it to where he wanted it, then picked up the garbage bag to set it aside. “Foods on its way.”

“Good!” She actually was a bit relieved at that. Considering she had been living off of sandwiches and whatever could be reheated in the remains of the kitchen, actually cooked food sounded divine at the moment.

As if on cue, the disembodied voice of JARVIS floated from speakers that Peggy assumed were embedded into the pool area. “You have someone coming up the drive, sir. I believe that is Mr. Choi.”

“Great, send him back when he gets in.” Stark looked delighted at this as he turned on her. “You said something that was unique around here. Don’t get much more unique to LA than Korean/Mexican fusion.”

It wasn’t a combination Peggy would have thought of, and considering her limited exposure to either cuisine, she couldn’t imagine how it was done. “Is it edible and not a sandwich?”

“I can guarantee the edible part,” he grinned as in the depths of the house a new voice called through the hollow and destroyed space.

“Back here,” Stark bellowed back, wandering to the open door - the glass here had miraculously not been destroyed - waving someone back. Peggy watched as he reached for bags from a man carrying several at once, eyeing the entire place with a wondering, worried eye.

“The hell happened here?” He asked, glaring at Stark pointedly.

Stark at least had the grace to look somewhat ashamed after the fact. “Err...redecorating. It’s been a minute since you were out here.”

“Some of us got to work,” the man shot back, cheerfully, following Stark to the table he had just cleaned. Behind him, another woman followed, quietly carrying more items. Peggy watched from the side as they set about putting bags on tables, unpacking small foil pans and paper plates.

“Yeah, yeah, one day you’ll be here, buddy,” Stark assured him, helping to pull out packages as he eyed what was inside. “You got the short rib tacos?”

“Yeah, and the spicy pork quesadilla you always like.”

“This is why I call you,” Stark enthused, punching the other man lightly in the arm. He glanced back to where Peggy stood, awkwardly watching the proceedings. “So, hey, this is an old friend of my family, Peggy Carter over here. Her first time trying your stuff. Peggy, this is Chef Choi, sort of the hot thing here on the LA scene.”

The man turned, nodding at Peggy before taking her hand for a firm shake. “Roy, nice to meet you. I got Maritza helping me out today. She works in my trucks.”

The woman smiled, nodding politely, taking Peggy’s offered hand shyly. Both were kitted out in black t-shirts with the word “Kogi” on the left breast, but where Maritza seemed a normal, if quiet personality, her employer was not. His arms were covered in tattoos, and he clearly had a rapport with Stark, who was already poking and prodding into all the bags.

“Dude, let me finish,” the chef admonished, gently, swatting him away.

“Just looking for the kimchi.”

“It’s there, and if you get out of my way, I’ll be out of yours.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stark chuckled, wandering away, but not without a thank you for Maritza. “So, hey, you guys want a beer? I got the good stuff.”

“Nah, am on duty, man.” The chef returned to unpackaging things, shooting Stark a dry look. “And you think you should be having any, yourself, with the Feds after your suit or something.”

Far from looking upset, Stark only sighed, glancing at Peggy, dryly. “Something like that. You want anything?”

“Water is fine.”

He nodded, wandering to the bar to grab the required beverages and other things. “So, Choi, how is the food truck business going?”

“Better than the saving the world business!”

That made Stark laugh outright. “When is your new place opening up?”

“Soon, you should come out when it does.”

“I’ll let Pepper know.”

Peggy noticed only the smallest of eye-flicker towards her, but the man was at least polite enough not to say anything. “Yeah, you two should come out. Hit me up, we’ll make it a thing.”

Stark said nothing as he set down the items in his arms, eyeing the spread. “We all done here?”

“I think that’s it. Let me know how you like it.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Stark took the chef’s hand, winking at his assistant. “And make sure Maritza there gets part of that big, fat tip I gave you.”

“Everyone is getting some tonight,” Chef Choi grinned. “They’ll appreciate it. Hey, thanks as always, Tony.”

“You got it.”

They both said their farewells to Peggy before wandering back through the house, Stark watching them go before contemplating the food before him. “Roy’s one of the hip chefs in town right now, got started doing Korean tacos. Dig in, I think you’ll like them.”

With her limited food experience, Peggy could honestly say that she wasn’t sure what to expect. She had both Mexican and Korean independently, both while in town with Coulson last fall, but the two together was not something she’d have thought of trying. Quietly, she filled a plate from the platters of food. There was far more than they could eat in a sitting. Considering the state of Stark’s house, she suspected he planned on living on it for the next few days.

Stark settled at one of the tables by the edge of the courtyard, literally hanging over the cliffs below. Glass lined the perimeter, protecting them from falling over the edge and tumbling into the ocean where it swirled beneath them, as well as keeping them somewhat protected from the wind and spray. In the distance, the sun sank like molten gold beyond the horizon, leaving the house in growing twilight. If there were a prettier picture in the world, Peggy couldn’t think of it.

They ate in silence for several moments. Stark was clearly starving and Peggy had to admit she was fairly hungry herself. He had practically finished his plate before he finally spoke, wiping at his goatee with a napkin. “What do you think?”

It occurred to her that in his own way he was hoping to impress her. “It’s...good. I can’t say I’ve had much experience with either cuisine, so I think it’s good.”

“I didn’t know if you would expect fancy French _haute cuisine_ , dripping in black truffle and caviar.”

“I did make it through the war. I lived off of tinned fish and coffee so thick that you could spackle a house with it.”

That earned a laugh out of him, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair to watch the sunset. “God, do you know how bonkers that sounds? Are you even thirty yet?”

“Not quite, no.”

Stark barked a laugh again, running a restless hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. He clearly had a great deal to say and didn’t know where to start. Peggy took pity on him, knowing how overwhelming all of this had to be. “I’m guessing you didn’t ask me to have dinner with you because you were bored and needed company.”

Stark cocked his head, shrugging. “Actually, in part, yeah. Your agent...Romanoff...she cut off all communication in and out, and all I got to talk to is JARVIS, DUM-E and U, and the last two are like talking to a box of rocks, so…”

“I will say JARVIS has been a delight to talk to.”

Stark nodded, clearly unsure what to say to that. “I...good. I built him more as an experiment than anything else, just to see if I could do it.”

“I get the feeling that’s how a lot of your creations start off.”

“Not going to lie, yeah.” He slouched a bit, stretching his legs before him. “Sort of how engineering works, you know, get a brilliant idea, see how far you can run with it.”

“But never if you should run with it?”

He blinked in mild surprise at her come back. “Sort of tends to curb the idea of ‘endless possibilities’ if you walk in the door with any doubts.”

“But it does save on back end problems of ethics, such as the situation you are finding yourself in now.”

He hadn’t expected that. She couldn’t tell if it irritated him or amused him. “If I thought too hard about it, I might have never gotten out of that cave.”

“True, but you weren’t in the cave when you improved on the suit, nor when you flew it to Gulmira to confront the Ten Rings. An argument could perhaps be made that you created it to free yourself, yes, but you perfected it for...what, exactly?”

That clearly was a hot button topic. He scowled, pulling himself up to rise, wandering back to the bar to rustle in a refrigerator in there, returning with a pair of bottled beers. “Pacifico?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, as he passed one open bottle to her, pulling from his as he settled down again to take another idyll bite of taco and stare out at the ocean. It was long moments before he spoke again, eyeing her over his last bites of food.

“So, I have to ask,” he drawled, lazily. “Did you and my dad ever sleep together?”

She shouldn’t have been shocked by that question. Peggy had half expected it long before now, but even then, the frank way he tossed it out, between bites of taco, and the pointed, wicked gleam in his eye caught her off guard. She flushed, anger and outrage mingling with embarrassment as she stopped with the beer bottle halfway to her mouth, glaring at him in mute anger.

“I mean, if you did, I wouldn’t judge. He did go through women like Kleenex, but you know, the curiosity is there…”

Peggy set her beer down with a snap, causing it to foam a bit over the lip and over her hand. She wiped it angrily on a paper napkin, more upset that she had let Stark get to her than that he had asked it. “Mr. Stark…”

“Tony,” he corrected with the broadest of charming smiles. Peggy ignored it.

“You do know that it’s none of your bloody business who either I or your father may or may not have spent company with, correct?”

He shrugged, clearly pleased he had ruffled her. “I would normally agree, but seeing as my father’s escapades are easily found all over the internet, and you are a mystery to me, I had to put the question out there. You seem awful devoted to the memory of a guy who died two decades ago.”

She scowled, tossing the napkin onto her plate. “For me he was alive and well a year-and-a-half ago. And for your information, no, your father was perhaps the last man on earth I would have invited into my bed, for obvious reasons, I should think.”

He hardly seemed bothered by that. If anything, he seemed amused. “No Stark Special hiding in your jewel box?”

“Please,” she snorted in clear disgust, choosing to ignore the double entendre. “I don’t even want to think about the amount of money he wasted on those.”

“I hear they are quite the collectors item in the jewelry market.” His glee turned somewhat more serious. “But, all kidding aside, you two never…”

“Your father was one of my dearest friends, for all he drove me mad trying to fix his messes. But no, he and I were never lovers, and I was never interested in him like that.”

Peggy would be loath to put a name to the feeling she saw, ever so fleeting, flickering to life under Stark’s mask of indifference, but if she had to, she’d say it was relief. He finished his food in another two bites, chewing thoughtfully as he watched her, wiping his hands on the paper napkin he crumpled to toss on the table by his plate.

“Sorry for the intrusive questions,” he finally stated, though he didn’t look particularly apologetic. He had that casual, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude she had noticed about him when discussing difficult subjects, an insouciants that belied the emotional turmoil he clearly was feeling and didn’t want to deal with. “It’s just that, you know, I had to be sure. My father, great man that he was, didn’t feel the need to tell me...well, much of anything, honestly, so you know, I am left to piece things together decades after he died, so…”

Peggy’s irritation with the invasiveness of his questions shifted, then, into irritation with Howard over his lack of communication with his son. In truth, she wasn’t shocked he hadn’t, Howard always did have the habit of selective sharing of any information, whether that was the truth of who took his secret stash of weapons, who his childhood friends were, or what the Blitzkrieg Button was really used for. “You’re father had a horrible tendency to keep people out of the loop on many important things, usually for reasons he thought made sense, even if it didn’t feel that way from the outside.”

Stark only met her observation with the driest of chuckles, scrubbing at his face tiredly. “You say that as if he were keeping, you know, secrets of his latest wacky invention, or the fact he left the iron on at home, but no, we are talking whole aspects of his life. SHIELD? You two went off together and founded a superspy organization, one he apparently ran for huge portions of time, and I’m just now finding out about it two decades after he died.”

Peggy grimaced. “For what it’s worth, I don’t agree with your father’s decision to do that.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, because you weren’t here to tell him otherwise when he decided to do it.”

His barbed comment hit home. She winced. “No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry for that. In my defense, I don’t know if he would have listened to me even if I had been. He had the habit of conveniently ignoring me when he didn’t wish to hear something.

“Oh, so it was you too! Glad to know it wasn’t just me.”

For not the first time, Peggy wished she could shake Howard hard. That he was self-involved and self-serving in the extreme was a given, but to see the after effects of that behavior on a son who he barely let in enough to see any other side of his father left Peggy truly angry at her friend. Howard had always had an eye to the future, never to the present, and consequently had never thought to see the damage he had left in his wake, or consider the consequences said damage would have in the future.

“Tony,” she sighed his name, wearily. “I…”

“How did you two meet?” He cut her off, impatient, changing tactics as he threw up his charming facade again. “You and Dad, I mean. Obviously, since he told me so little about things, you are a mystery to me.”

She paused, caught in the shift for a second, trying to find her footing. “We met because of the war, as part of some of the Lend/Lease agreements. I was one of several British agents and scientists who came to help work with the US Army on efforts to better aid Britain in the war, under the table of course as the US was desperately trying to remain isolationist. Your father was one of the few manufacturers willing to ignore public sentiment and throw his hat into the Lend/Lease program. As it turned out, he had been working for years with Abraham Erskine, the German scientist, on a human growth serum. Erskine had gone missing, though, and your father feared that the Nazis were using Erksine to develop a super soldier program. So, I was assigned to help the SSR extract Erskine from where he was being held in Austria and then return with him to the United States. From there, Project: Rebirth was born, and I began working alongside your father full time from there on.”

“Captain America,” Stark intoned, enunciating each syllable, clipping them off. “My father’s greatest creation.”

Peggy only just did manage to not roll her eyes. “Your father wasn’t the only one working on that project. It was Erskine’s formula, not Howard’s. That’s why it died with him. No one was ever able to recreate it after, and your father tried. Everyone did, mostly with horrible results.”

She couldn’t help but to think of Bruce Banner as she said it.

Stark clearly had heard a different story growing up. “Yeah, well, way Dad told it he brewed up Steve Rogers out of whole cloth in some test tube, zapping him to life and sending him out in the world to do good, the perfect human being. The only redeeming thing he felt he ever did in his whole life.”

There was bitterness there, you’d have to be blind not to see it. Had Howard honestly said that to the boy, to his own son, that the only redeeming thing he had ever created was a figure who he hadn’t created himself? In a flash of anger at her old friend, she snapped out. “Steve Rogers was his own person, not a creation, and certainly not solely your father’s. If he was a super soldier, that was as much Erskine’s doing as it was your father’s Vita Rays. Who and what Steve was, the person he was, that was all him and him alone. He was...a good man, a very good man, one who everyone admired, especially your father.”

Stark’s dark eyes widened at her vehemence, surprised by her sudden temper, but then just as quickly narrowed as his lightning fast mind picked through her words. “Admired by just my father?”

Peggy paused, stopped, then flushed, scowling back at him. “My point is that Steve wasn’t just someone your father could point to, like a plane or a bomb and say ‘I did that.’ Howard did take his...disappearance, hard, very hard. But it was difficult not to. Steve had a habit of making people want to be better and do better, your father included.”

Stark looked dubious at best at the very notion of that idea. “You know, I wish I could believe that, but I just found out my father lied for decades about his involvement with your organization, so I sort of find it hard to believe he wanted to be or do better. At the very least, I am having trouble buying the idea that he was working in anyone’s interest other than his. My father was happiest when I was shipped off and out of the way, so he didn’t have to deal with the emotional mess of raising a child who was smarter than he was.”

Well, that put it all out on the table, then, the whole, sordid, messiness of it all.

At Peggy’s stunned silence, Stark’s irritation faded somewhat, his shoulder’s slumping as he reached forward for his half-finished beer, saluting her before sipping from the bottle. “Hey, doing what I do best, leaving my mess out there for all to see. I find it makes it easier when people decide they are sick of me and walk away.”

There were so many levels to unpack here, Peggy didn’t know where to start, and vaguely wished Romanoff were here to help. Peggy was no psychologist, and she certainly wasn’t good with handling conflict resolution. After all, she was the person who handled most conflicts by either punching something, shooting something, or moving away all together, either to a different continent or a different time. Still, she did understand a thing or two about feeling shut out, cut off, and ignored by people who she desperately wanted affirmation from.

“Do they really get sick of you, Tony, or do you push them away?”

“Does it really matter in the end one way or the other?”

“I suppose it does to them.” She considered the situation with Rhodes. “You know, when no one else could be bothered to find you in that desert, Rhodes was the one who came to us and put us on your trail. He went outside of proper military channels and came to an outside organization to find you, something I’m sure likely didn’t endear him to his superiors. And from what I can tell, during all of this, he’s been willing to stick his neck out for you again and again, with the military, with the senate, and you pay him back by showing just how reckless you can be. All because of what? Your reactor was poisoning you? SHIELD had a solution found for you in weeks, at least one good enough to get you up and running again. They could have helped you before that, but you didn’t ask and you didn’t say anything. Instead, you want to show the world you are Iron Man, the Secretary of Defense, single-handedly keeping the world safe. But are you? Is it really about keeping the world safe or just feeding your ego? Is it about showing you can be something more than a drunken playboy? Is it about proving yourself to a father who couldn’t be bothered to be honest with you once in your whole life?”

That last question hit home with pinpoint accuracy, causing him to rear back, anger and defensiveness rising to the fore, but Peggy wasn’t finished with her point. She charged ahead, leaning against the table, into his space. “Or is this really all about Tony Stark trying to prove to himself and everyone else he is really a good person, the sort of person his father seemed to always revere, the sort of person who leaves behind a legacy that people talk about for years, like your father did with Steve Rogers?”

He sat, stock still, a million things running through his eyes, though if Peggy were a betting woman she would say the primary emotion was cold, dark ire. She had more than hit a nerve, she had ripped the whole scab off, allowing something hurt to bleed out. When he spoke, it was low and soft, a harsh gasp of pent up emotions. “You are preaching to me? You don’t know me. Someone who blithely followed a science experiment through time just because she was told she was special and important, because the boys wouldn’t play with her in the 1940s. Who are you to sit in judgement of me and what I do?”

Peggy would be hurt by his words if she didn’t know he was lashing out, trying to injure her. “You’re right, I don’t have the right to judge you or anyone. But I did know your father. I knew he was a man who had brilliant intellect and an outrageous ego. He was a man whose father never appreciated him and his abilities, who had to fight and scrape for every bit of recognition he got, who watched as friends and colleagues died for a cause bigger than themselves, and felt grossly inadequate to that. I know he kept trying, again and again, to do something, anything that would leave the world a better place than the one he had left behind, one where he didn’t have to see people suffer or friends get sucked into someone else’s war.”

Stark wasn’t about to let this one go, at least not about his father. “That didn’t give him the right to shut me out, to push me away, or to lie to me about any of it! None of this, Stane, the suit, Vanko, the goddamn reactor in my chest wouldn’t have happened if he’d ever been honest with me a fucking day of my fucking life and not busy packing me off to some other boarding school, shoving me in the care of some other nanny, or lecturing me on how disappointed he was in me doing the exact same shit he had been doing because I wasn’t living up to the high bar his precious Captain America set for him on how to be a good person.”

The sheer volume of his emotional tirade was much like a hit from one of the glowing repulsors on his suit, painful and shocking, blasting Peggy and everything in its way. When she could breathe again, the only thing Peggy could think, with infinite sadness, was that Howard was a blistering idiot to leave behind this sort of pain in the only son he ever had.

“You’re right,” she whispered, frowning at the table in front of her. In the steadily graying twilight, the ocean beyond them was a loud roar in the sudden stillness between them. “You are right, it isn’t an excuse for Howard. He...he did that. He shut people out when he felt it was for their best interest, or more often than not, his own best interest. He lied, often, for reasons that only ever made sense to him, but that he always felt justified in. He kept secrets because he didn’t trust many people in his life, and because he had a lot of dangerous information in his head, dangerous things he made. I don’t think, if he saw what would come in the future, with his death, with Stane, with what happened to you, he would have made the decisions he did. Your father was many things - arrogant, self-centered, selfish, self-serving - but he wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t unfeeling, and he wasn’t hateful. For all of his flaws, he wanted, desperately to be a good person. It wasn’t something that was natural to him, and I don’t know if he was good as often as he would have liked, but...he tried. He did the best he could.”

If her words sank through, if they connected at all with Stark, she couldn’t say. He became very fascinated with the beer in hand, working a corner of the label off at the neck with his thumb. “Yeah, well, apparently he wasn’t good enough to solve the Arc Reactor problem. He got stuck on that and kicked it down the road expecting that somehow in the future I would figure it all out.”

When he would have needed his father’s genius the most, his father had failed. A terrifying moment for any child, certainly, but more especially for Stark whose very life depended on the technology his father had helped to develop. “Perhaps he had faith that if there was anyone in this world who could figure out the secret of the Arc Reactor and where to take it, it was you.”

His soft, tired chuckle was sad at best. “He didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. How could I believe he trusted me enough to figure that out?”

Peggy sighed, picking up her beer to finish the dregs, setting the empty bottle aside. “Short of asking him yourself, which you can’t, you have no way of knowing. But Howard was nothing if not a futurist, and you were the future he had. I have a feeling that if there is something to be found, he left it in those notes for you to find and figure out. You are right in one way, you are more brilliant than he was.”

Stark’s gaze finally slid up to hers. “What, you assume because I made that claim I obviously am?”

“No,” she said, simply, gathering her now empty plate and bottle. “Because I knew your father well, and if Howard were caught in the middle of a terrorists’ cave in Afghanistan, I can categorically assure you that he would not have done what you did to get out. He was many things, but finding the creative solution in the middle of a life and death situation was not usually in his wheelhouse, and he certainly was not the one to stand in the line of fire to take the bullet and save others.”

He was thoughtful for long moments before nodding, looking out to the darkening ocean beyond. “No, Dad was definitely the type to cut the wire rather than sacrifice himself type.”

“Nothing wrong with that, if there is a wire to cut. There isn’t always.” That had been why Howard had always admired Steve, because he was the man who could do the things Howard himself could not.

Quietly, Peggy pushed herself back, her things in hand. “Thank you for a lovely dinner. You must thank Mr. Choi for me, it was delicious.”

“Sure!” He waved at her, finishing off his own beer. “There will be leftovers for days. I clearly do not know how to order food for just, you know, regular people.”

“Well, since you will be stuck inside working, it will go to good use, right?”

He glanced back to the table filled with trays. “Yeah, I guess.”

She nodded, turning to take her things inside. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m here to help as I can.”

“Thanks,” he replied, absently. “I think you helped enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't tend to stick real people in stories, but as Iron Man is always doing these weird cameos, I couldn't help myself. Also, I was watching a LOT of "The Chef Show" on Netflix, because I'm stuck inside and can't go anywhere, and this is me living vicariously! Anyway, full disclosure, I have eaten at several of the real Roy Choi's restaurants, they are that good, and I love Kogi tacos.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy sees an old friend.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Peggy muttered this to the quiet confines of her borrowed car, but it was Sharon’s voice on the other end of the cellular phone who responded. “What about it is so terrifying?”

“Facing my past, the decisions I made, the people I hurt, things like that.”

“Fair,” her niece offered in the understanding way she had. “But you managed facing the family just fine.”

“Your father didn’t speak to me for six months afterwards, he was that upset with me.”

Sharon paused a moment before continuing. “All right, I’ll grant you that, Dad didn’t make it easy for you. But you don’t know that this is what is going to happen here.”

Peggy didn’t know that, but then again, if she were in this position and it was someone, say Steve, who appeared on her doorstep after decades away, she could say she would have a strong reaction. Knowing herself, it would have involved a gun and an interrogation. She gripped the steering wheel as she studied the sun-drenched house, done in the Spanish colonial style that was all the clear favorite in this neighborhood. The gardens around it were lovely and well-groomed, despite the fact there wasn’t much land for the large house to sit on. Unlike the Stark mansion, it was part of a neighborhood of other such houses, all perfect in their prettiness. Peggy could well imagine that the whole lot of them cost a small fortune and still wouldn’t cover the cost of the house Howard built and that his son now had to restore.

“I spoke with her granddaughter, Lauren,” Sharon continued, her voice tinny and distant on the other end of the wireless line. “I told her that you got to know Angie through some consulting work for SHIELD, that you worked on film together. I waved my hands, made it sound believable, and then asked if she could keep it a surprise till you could see her. That way, there is someone there if Angie needs it, but you don’t have to dance around the whole time-travel situation either.”

“As if seeing me alive and well and looking the same way I did then won’t be mad enough.” Peggy had already gone through this once with Stark. “And her granddaughter asked no questions?”

“Well, when I pulled out SHIELD, she stopped trying to refer me to Angie’s agent at least. I think she will be okay with it, as long as she’s nearby. Honestly, I was with you, I didn’t want you meeting with her alone.”

Peggy still wasn’t sure Angie wouldn’t drop of a heart attack on the spot. “I wonder if she will be angry with me.” She hadn’t mentioned her conversation with Stark to Sharon, or the deep well of anger and resentment he had towards Howard. Peggy couldn’t say she had been much better in her treatment of Angie. She had neglected to tell her friend about her role in the SSR for months, had caught her up in an intrigue she was never supposed to be involved in, and then nearly turned her entire world upside down when Sousa and Thompson had come calling, looking for her. She’d already treated her friend shamefully once, and that was before she had decided to step into the future and leave everything else behind. Perhaps, in her own way, she wasn’t that different than Howard was.

“If you sit outside of her house like that, they are going to get creeped out and call the police.”

Sharon’s teasing roused Peggy enough to finally pluck up her own courage. “All right, I’m going in. I’ll call you afterwards to let you know how it went.”

“I’m here if you need,” Sharon assured her as another voice cut in to rumble something in the background to her niece. “Got to go, actually, tactical meeting. You got this!”

“Thank you,” she murmured as she made her goodbyes. She took a deep breath, put her phone into her handbag and grabbed it off the seat, climbing out of the car before she could think twice about it. Peggy had resolved to see her old friend today, mostly as she had few excuses and little reason not to. With Stark sequestered in his lab and ignoring her for the moment, and no further movement on the Banner situation, there was little and less reason not to confront the situation at hand.

She stepped up the sidewalk, through the lovely flowers and well trimmed grass, to the front door, recessed away under a cool, dim archway. Pressing the doorbell, she waited, as a voice sounded on the other side of the door, calling back into the house. The door itself was heavy, and it opened with a creek, as a figure peeked around it, barely discernible in the dim light of the house.

A friendly, feminine voice on the other side of the heavy, wrought iron screen door greeted her, curiously. “Hi!”

“Hello,” Peggy began, clearing the nerves out of her throat. “My name is Peggy Carter, I believe a representative from SHIELD called you the other day about me?”

It took the other figure a moment before it apparently clicked. “Oh, yeah, she mentioned you. You’re here to see Nana!” She reached out to open the door, cool air pouring from inside the house. “Come in! You came at a good time.”

Peggy stepped inside the foyer, her heels clicking on the Spanish tile of the entrance. Just inside, she turned to see a woman, physically only slightly younger than herself, her skin a lovely shade of dark, nut brown and her hair a halo of curls as she held out her hand to Peggy. “I’m Lauren, Ms. Martin’s granddaughter...well, one of them, at least. The one who mooches off of her.”

Her good natured humor about it seemed to indicate that she meant that line as a joke. Peggy smiled, shaking the other woman’s hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Can I get you anything? Tea, water, soda?”

“Water might be nice,” Peggy conceded, her mouth suddenly dry. She glanced around the space, overlooking a large sitting room, filled with elegant furniture and lovely antiques.

“Sure thing. Right this way!” The other woman led her through the spacious home to a kitchen area, bright and sunny and clearly comfortably lived in. “Nana is in the garden. I told her only that there was a surprise visitor to see her, not who you were. Your office said you work for SHIELD? Like the intelligence agency?”

“Yes,” Peggy assured the woman, grateful that Sharon had leaned into a white lie instead of making something up out of nothing. “I was...a consultant on a film project she was involved in.”

The other woman stared at her with wide, dark eyes, almost the same shape as Angie’s. “Seriously! Wow, I had no idea Nana knew a spy! That’s crazy! I mean, I knew she did that show ages ago, but she knew a real, honest to goodness spy.”

“Your grandmother has led a rather interesting life,” Peggy supplied, feeling confident that Angie had indeed done just that. That said, at the moment, however, Peggy was more baffled that one of her best friends in the entire world had any children, let alone a granddaughter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way. I only know of the fact she has a family, but seeing you in person is wonderful.”

“Well, thanks!” Lauren smiled, cheerfully, the same smile Angie would flash whenever a customer would come into the diner. “Nana likes to brag about us. My dad tells everyone the story that he knew I was going to go into the business when I was nine-years-old and Steven Spielberg greeted me personally at some barbecue Nana brought me to and said he heard all about me from her and hoped I would be as great an actress as she was. I was mortified! I mean, after that, what choice did I have? If Spielberg recognizes you, you have to be an actress, right?”

If there was one thing Lauren clearly did have in common with her grandmother, it was the gift of gab. She was pulling out a glass from a cabinet, filling it from a water dispenser in the stainless steel refrigerator, and talking, all at the same time, with the same fluid ease Angie had when working at the counter. “Anyway, so I ended up studying acting and film at NYU and USC and here we are, me sitting at Nana’s house, a struggling actress, looking after my grandmother. But, I wouldn’t have it any different. She keeps on me night and day with training, so hopefully it will turn into something soon.”

Time seemed to warp for Peggy, just a bit, as she regarded the lovely young woman, seeing in her a ghost of someone else from long ago. She couldn’t help herself as she grinned. “Well, if you are anything like your grandmother, I’m sure you will make it, eventually.”

“That’s what Dad says, but it's not easy when my older sister is a lawyer and has her own apartment downtown and I’m the bum of the family.” She shrugged under a thin t-shirt with some sort of graphic design on the front, smoothing her hands over dark leggings as she glanced towards the back. “But, you aren’t here to hear the woes of a struggling actress in Hollywood. I think Nana is by the pool, puttering in the roses, probably. She’s expecting a guest, but I figured I would let you make the introductions.”

“Thank you,” Peggy accepted the glass of water Lauren handed her, using it to try and calm her sudden nerves. “Hopefully, I don’t cause her to faint.”

“I don’t know, Nana is a tough, old bird.” Lauren’s words were frank, but her tone was fond. “She’s Italian, she can hack most anything.”

Peggy wasn’t so sure that Angie could handle even this.

Glass in hand, she moved to the garden, a small space in comparison to Stark’s sprawling property, but still large enough for a fair sized pool and a plethora of growing things. It all overlooked a small lake, Peggy supposed it was the one the community was named for. Deep in the garden, a woman in a broad, straw sunhat and loose fitting clothes stooped over a work table, seemingly repotting something as she hummed to herself, a song unfamiliar to Peggy, but the voice, aged as it was, still was as strong now as it had been in the 1940s.

Peggy stood there, unsure of what to say or what to do. She considered not saying anything. Instead, she only managed to make the most ridiculous of observations. “I see you still like singing to yourself when you think no one is around.”

The woman stopped, turning in confusion to the sound of Peggy’s voice. Even beneath the shade of the brim of her hat, Peggy could see her lively, intelligent eyes, for all that were in a face more lined with age than it had been sixty years ago. Even the expression was the same as her jaw fell, one hand clutching the edge of the table for support, the other going to rest just below her throat, flat across her chest. For a half panicked moment, Peggy thought she actually really did give one of her oldest friends a heart attack, before Angie finally gasped, half a sob, half a disbelieving yelp, tears welling in her eyes.

“Peggy,” she whispered, almost as if she were afraid to give voice to the possibility.

Peggy found her own eyes hopelessly burning, misting as she tried to bite back a sob of her own and utterly failing. “Hello, Angie.”

“Oh my God!” She finally did collapse into a chair nearby as she stared at Peggy, white as a sheet. “English...oh God, is that you, or have I finally died in some Godfather sort of way?”

Unclear what she meant by “godfather,” Peggy only chuckled, wetly, tears dripping down her nose, moving to steady her friend where she sat. “I don’t think you're dead. Maybe I am and this is all a strange dream.”

“Peggy,” the other woman muttered again, her face crumpling, finally, as she sobbed. “Oh my God, they...they said you were dead. They looked for you, Howard, Daniel, even Thompson, and I didn’t think he would ever do a kind thing by you. They said you died!”

“Not exactly, no,” Peggy insisted, gently, reaching for Angie’s gloved hand, covered in potting soil. “It’s all so mad, Angie, it is beyond mad, the sort of thing that you couldn’t make up for a radio show.”

Angie broke into quiet, intense sobs, shoulders shaking as Peggy clumsily held her as best she could. She was still straight and tall, still thin, her frame as light as a birds under her comfortable, cotton work clothes, but she was still Angie. It took her long moments to come to herself, pulling away from Peggy as she snuffled, pulling at her gloves to free her hands and wipe the wetness off her face.

“Look at me and the mess I’ve made,” she bemoaned, hints of her old accent breaking through her more cultured, theatrical tones, the proof of her years on stage. She knuckled tears away from under her eyes, wiping them on the knees of her working, cotton pants.

“No worse than me,” Peggy tittered, positive what makeup she did have left on had long since washed off with the tears. The shoulder of her light top, more casual than her office wear, but still more formal than Angie’s, clung to her shoulder wetly from Angie’s breakdown, but she didn’t care. “I was half frightened I’d cause you to faint or drop on the spot from the shock.”

“I nearly did! But this ticker is made of tougher stuff than that.” She patted her chest, beaming up at Peggy. “How are you even alive? How...are you looking that damn beautiful still after all these years?”

Peggy could only laugh, settling in a chair next to Angie, unbothered by the potting soil that now clung to her dark slacks. “You would never believe me if I told you.”

“Considering half the cases you told me about, English, I don’t know about that, they were crazy enough. And I know there are cases you didn’t or couldn’t tell me about.” Despite her blotchy, damp face, her pointed look was still the same Angie. “Was it something some mad scientist did? Was it something Howard Stark did?”

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive, you know,” Peggy joked, sniffing softly as she reached into her purse for a package of paper tissues, handing one to Angie before managing one for herself. “No, it wasn’t Howard, but it was something his son did.”

“Tony?”

“In a way, yes.” Peggy hedged her answer, knowing it made no sense. “Have you met him?”

The fond head shake and tisk said Angie had Tony’s number. “Oh, yes, Howard introduced him to me when he was a boy. Howard and Maria often were at the same events I was, and I got to know her fairly well. She was a lovely woman, amazing, more patient than I’d ever be. She was the exact opposite type of woman from the kind Howard used to go for, and how they made that work I do not know. But yeah, from time-to-time they’d bring him to events. Kid was too bright for his own good, even then. Since his parents died, I’ve only seen him a handful of times. He’s as charming as his father was.”

Peggy snorted inelegantly. “Charming is a word for it.”

Angie laughed, having heard Peggy’s rants about Howard before. “Yeah, well I see he’s taken after Howard in more ways than one. I watched him at those hearings the other week. Made an ass of himself in front of everyone, just like Howard.”

“He certainly can’t help himself,” Peggy agreed, wondering just what her charge was up to today without her there to keep an eye on him. “In any case, I’m here, now, in the 21st century, trying to piece my life back together.”

“Oh, English,” Angie sighed, patting her hand. “It’s got to be hard, now. You aren’t on your own, are you?”

“No,” Peggy assured her, squeezing her withered, cool fingers, gently. “No, I’ve connected with Michael’s children. You remember my brother, the one I thought was dead?”

“Oh, yeah.” She could see Angie pulling from the depths of her memory. “He had two children.”

“They are grown up and have children of their own, even grandchildren.” The strangeness of even saying that struck Peggy anew. “One of Michael’s granddaughters, Sharon, she and I have gotten close. She works as SHIELD with me.”

“Are you back there?” That seemed to trouble her somewhat.

“Well, yes, it seemed like the logical choice when I found myself here.”

Angie shrugged with something of a wry smile. “I don’t know if I would want to return to the same place that got me lost for sixty years, but this is you, and you loved that life of adventure.”

“Says you who became a famous Hollywood actress,” Peggy teased, unable to stop herself from beaming with pride. “And I’ve seen _Agent Knight_ , by the way, it’s how I found out about you. Sharon loved that show as a child and had to show it to me. It wasn’t too hard to see where you got that.”

“Oh, that,” Angie chuckled, waving it away with a flush to her pale cheeks, looking somewhat embarrassed. “That show was so ridiculous, I can’t believe you saw it. Honestly, the studio wanted a sexy Diana Rigg and ended up with me, a mother in her 40s. Do you know they wanted me to put on a leather catsuit? I wish I could have fit in a leather catsuit, then!”

“You and me both!”

“Pssshht, look at you, English! You are the exact figure they would want in one of those!”

The last thing Peggy wanted to discuss was how she looked the same while Angie had aged. “Nevermind that, dear, I am more interested in the three children. I’m assuming one of them is the parent of the lovely young creature who met me at the door.”

That was a subject Angie could talk for hours on, and so she did. The pair of them sat in the cool shade overlooking the lake, as Angie told Peggy about her life, how Howard’s influence got her a few key, if not fancy roles in Hollywood as standard, pretty ingenues in Westerns and romances, before she got a break out part in a psychological thriller that had set her star on the rise. When, like many actresses at the time, she ‘aged out,’ she moved to television, where she had a successful career for a while, as she branched back out to her first love, the stage. This led her full circle back into film later in life, where she was recognized as a well-respected, beloved older actress and given the sort of parts she would have loved as a younger woman.

“Pity, it took me getting older for everyone to realize I could act,” she joked, a hint of frustration lying under her words. Peggy well remembered the old conversations they had, the tears and doubts that plagued her every time she came home from another cattle call, rejected for a role she was sure she would get. “Anyway, I thought about moving to New York again, as Broadway was thrilled to have me in things, but Bill loved it out here. And besides, his cancer treatments were all out here at Cedars, so we didn’t want to uproot that.”

Peggy divined that Bill had been her husband, but she cheekily asked about him all the same. “And who was Bill when he was at home?”

Angie shot her a sly look. “Bill was my second husband, if you must know.”

“Second!” Peggy was surprised by that. Angie was always particularly discerning in the men she dated and had always sworn she would be a good Catholic girl and not marry and divorce on whim. “What is the story on that?”

“Ahh, that was the studio,” she grumbled, lightly. “Back in the day they loved controlling the lives of their contract players. I had just started getting hot and they had a young stud, Mitchel Johnson, sort of a John Wayne meets Cary Grant type. Problem was he was bad news. Had an alcohol problem, among other things, but he was an investment to the studio. So, their PR thought if they could throw the two of us crazy kids together and do a whole stunt for the press, it would get him to calm down and get me a bit of a boost in the public eye.”

Not that Peggy wasn’t aware this type of thing happened all the time in Hollywood, but it horrified her nonetheless that it happened to her friend. “Oh, Angie, you didn’t?”

She shrugged her shoulders under her sunhat, looking only a little sorry for it now. “If I were at Stark Studios, Howard would have nixed that double quick, but I was at Fox by that point and I was convinced I needed to do it for my career. So, sure, I did it, and horrified my mother with a quickie wedding. None of my family even got to be there, it was all done in a week with a judge the studio liked to use for that sort of thing. They published all the pictures, it was on the newsreels and suddenly we were husband and wife, at least for about a year. What I didn’t know, and what the studio did know, was that Mitch Johnson, their new star player, was falling apart mentally. Of course, now at days we’d recognize that as mental illness and get them help, but it was the 50s and either you got locked up or you self medicated. After the poor thing ended up walking down the middle of Laurel Canyon Boulevard, naked as the day he was born, delirious, I finally got someone to listen to me that he needed real help and not just slap a fake marriage on it to make it all better. So, the studio helped me to get an annulment, they got him in a high-end sanitarium, and that was the end of that. He never did get better, poor Mitch. He died a few years later, though I never heard how. I suppose I would rather not, all things considered.”

“I’m so sorry, Angie.” Peggy’s heart broke to think that her friend had gone through that.”

“Oh, it’s all right!’ Angie waved it off. “I was more sad for Mitch than anything. But, in the middle of all that, I met Bill. He was a lawyer, he helped me get out of the whole mess. Turns out, he was rather handsome and charming to boot. We did things the right way. Once Mama approved, we had a whole, big church wedding back in New York, all the family there. Bill’s family came from Omaha, so they thought this big, loud Italian family was bonkers, but they were so sweet...just like Bill.”

Angie’s soft sigh and bittersweet smile told Peggy in a look more than words ever could. “I’m glad you could find someone who could make you look like that.”

“He was a dream, English. I wish you could have met him.” She smiled, softly, turning the thick, gold band on her left ring finger. “The studio of course was sad that it wasn’t more high profile, but after the Mitch incident they weren’t about to say anything, especially as Bill was a lawyer. I doubt I would have had the career I did if he didn’t come along. He taught me so much about law, and contracts, and how to fight for myself and to stand on my own two feet. He’d always say ‘Angie, what are you going to do if I’m not here and you got to take care of the kids? You need to fight for what you're worth!’ He was right, you know.”

“He sounds like a good man, one who believed in you.”

“He was,” she affirmed, reminiscing quietly before speaking again. “You’d have loved him. The two of you would have discussed policy and politics for hours!”

“I wish I could have met him.”

“I wish you could have, too. He heard enough stories about you. So did the kids, growing up, to the point they were sick of hearing them!”

That she loomed so large in the minds of an entire generation of children was odd to Peggy. “So, what are their names, what do they do, where do they live?”

The subject of her children clearly pleased her. “Billy is the oldest, or ‘William,’ now that he’s a professional. He’s out in Arizona now, started a development company out there. He’s been married a few times, has a pack of kids, I see them for holidays. Fred is in the middle. He is retired and living in San Diego now. Meghan is the youngest, she is Lauren’s mother. She’s a lawyer, she married a lawyer, had a lawyer daughter, and then there is Lauren, the actress. Of all the kids and grandkids, she’s the only one who followed in my footsteps.”

Peggy glanced towards the doors, where she had spotted said granddaughter earlier. “Well, she seems to be fond of you.”

“She’s a good girl,” Angie agreed, grinning. “She’s got the Martinelli drama down pat. Meg harps on her to get a real job, she snaps back she is following her dreams, and it sounds just like me and Mama back in the day. You remember?”

“I do!” Peggy grinned, having been witness to one or two arguments between mother and daughter, often in what they assumed were hushed whispers, except the entire neighborhood could hear them. “And your father would talk loudly to pretend you two weren’t furiously arguing in the kitchen.”

“And they said they never knew where I got the acting gene.” Angie chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. “They passed a while ago, back in the 70s. My brother is gone now too, most of them, really. Funny how time marches on when you aren’t looking at it.”

Funny indeed, Peggy thought, sadly, studying her friend. Even well into her 80s, Angie still looked beautiful. “I don’t know, the years haven’t been so hard on you.”

“Not as nice as they’ve been to you,” she snorted, shifting in her chair.

“Well, I had some help.”

“So did I,” she winked, tapping her nose. “A few tweaks here and there, I’ll admit it. I’m too old not to. But, I’m Italian, we age gracefully, so I had that going for me.”

She eyed Peggy up and down, blandly. “Seriously, English, what did happen that night? You can tell me, I’m not going to scoff at you or be mad. I’m too old to bother with those things anymore.”

Peggy wasn’t sure about that. “Would you believe it was a man with a time machine from 2018 who told me I had to save the world?”

In truth, Angie didn’t look shocked by that. “Yeah, with you, probably.”

Peggy didn’t know what that said about her life or what Angie had come to expect from it. “It was a crazy night, Angie. I had gone to Howard’s party. Daniel had proposed and I turned him down. I left, upset, and then there was this man who said he was from the future, and he had a time machine, and for whatever reason I believed it, and...here I am, in the 21st century.”

She expected Angie, practical, good-hearted Angie, to immediately scold her for being sucked into any crazy schemes involving time machines and men from the future. That would be where Peggy would zero in on. But no, not Angie.

“Wait, what?” She reached her thin fingers to grab Peggy’s arm, much as she used to when excited. “Danial Sousa proposed to you and you turned him down?”

“Angie, I just told you a complete stranger from 2018 showed up in an alley on my walk home on New Years Eve and told me he needed me to save the future. Why is Daniel the part of the story you are shocked by?”

Angie ignored her. “That explains why he was so frantic looking for you. I wasn’t joking, he opened up a case and everything.”

That part, Peggy was well aware of. The niggling guilt over the ruckus over her disappearance reared again, as did the regret that she had hurt Daniel so completely. “I just...I cared about Daniel, I did. I suppose I always will, to be honest, he was a good man. In the end I feel as if he was more in love with me than I was with him.”

She knew the look on Angie’s face well, had seen it many a time across the counter of the diner. “Peggy, Daniel was attractive...very attractive. He was nice, kind, sincere, would have made a good husband.”

“And we would have bucked heads the first moment I had to pull rank on him as the head of SHIELD.” She met her friend’s gaze just as pointedly. “You know it and I know it. It’s one thing when your wife is working as a spy, Angie, it’s another when she’s your boss and outranks you. And sure, I’m sure there are several marriages that could have weathered that sort of difference, but with Daniel...we never talked about it, honestly. Maybe we could have, but I wasn’t certain. I didn’t know what he wanted, he didn’t know what I wanted. Did he expect me to walk away from my career, the position I had worked so long for, the organization I had founded? Maybe he didn’t, maybe he was fine with it, I don’t know. That was the point, we never, ever spoke about it, not once, not the future, not what we wanted, not our hopes and dreams. In the end, I feel he was in love with the idea of who and what I was more than he was in love with me.”

Angie, now far older and much wiser, only sighed. Perhaps now with age and wisdom she understood in a way that younger, less worldly Angie wouldn’t have. “I suppose you are right, all things considered. It’s just a shame, you know. You always were so picky about men.”

“What, because I wouldn’t go out with the likes of Howard?”

“No, because you wouldn’t go out with the likes of anyone,” Angie shot back. “All those years, English, Daniel was the only one I ever saw you get close with. Maybe, except that scientist who worked for Howard...what was his name?”

“Jason,” Peggy supplied. “Jason Wilkes.”

“Ahh, yeah, him. Tell me, did you run to the future because some weirdo showed up prophesying doom and gloom if you didn’t come with him right now, or did you run because you said no to Daniel?”

Peggy squirmed, uncomfortably. Unlike Stark, who had zeroed in on the time travel and the Avengers, Angie had hit the uncomfortable truth in all of this. Whether she liked it or not - and frankly, she didn’t like to admit it - she had in her own way run away. She’d made a mess, hurt someone’s feelings, and then left before she resolved it, any of it. Good God, all she had done was send letters to people telling them she was leaving! As if walking out of a lifetime of marriages, babies, get togethers, life experiences could somehow be made up for by a hastily written note in a moment of impetuousness.

“Perhaps a bit of column A and a bit of column B,” Peggy admitted, rather miserably. “I mean...when you have someone coming to you and telling you the world will face a crisis the likes of which it has never known unless you come with them to stop it, you tend to listen.”

“There is always some crisis, Peggy,” Angie sighed, for once looking every bit of her 86 years. “First, they were going to destroy the world with nuclear bombs. Then they were going to destroy the economy by controlling all the oil and grinding everything to a halt. Then it was extremist terrorists flying planes into buildings. There is always...something, some war, some madman, some threat. No, I’m not shocked that someone, somewhere, created time travel, or that Howard’s son was involved with it, because of course he was. I’m even less shocked that there is some threat coming and they felt they needed you to save it, I mean, of course they do. You’re Peggy Carter!”

Peggy wasn’t sure she had as much faith in herself as Angie clearly did. “I don’t know, it sounds fairly mental to me.”

“Ehh, remember, I knew you when you were following crazy Russian assassins and Hollywood movie stars infected with...what was it Howard called it? Transdimensional goo?”

Peggy had forgotten that. “He always was so creative at naming things.”

“So you going into the future to save the world, that doesn’t shock me. What I worry about, English, is that you will spend so much time trying to save the world, or get others to save the world, or fearing that someone will try to stop you from saving the world, that you don’t actually stop and live in the world you are trying to save. When does Peggy Carter get to have a life?”

This was by far not the first time they’d had this conversation. How many times had Angie said the same thing over pie at the diner, or glasses of scotch in Howard’s comfortable penthouse, as Angie had admonished her for getting caught up in yet another case, another harrowing tale, another fight with Jack Thompson and not with living her life. This time, however, it was different. Now, Angie was old, a lifetime of memories, good and bad behind her, with a family she adored and a career she could be proud of. She had lived her life to its fullest, and even now, in the twilight of her life, she still remained in her comfortable home, still remaining active, living her life with no apologies. Could Peggy say she had the same thing or that she ever would?

“I have hope I will,” Peggy admitted, softly, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “I mean…”

She hated admitting the Steve angle in any of her time traveling. She certainly didn’t come forward in time to be with him alone. Frankly, if she wished, she could have had Howard search for him in the past and bring him out of the ice, but Scott Lang had been so adamant about the need for Steve and Stark to work together to fight the threat of Thanos, she had agreed to all of this. But whether she wanted to admit it or not, a large part of her had agreed to all of this because of the possibility of finding Steve again, of getting that chance that had been denied to them both.

“I am afraid there is one more aspect of my life I didn’t tell you about in the past.” Peggy slid her eyes up, ashamed, towards her friend.

Angie only met her guilt mildly, a hint of a smile creeping up her lined face. “Peggy, if I had a dime for every time you confessed something else you kept from me, I’d not have had to work a day in my life. I get it, you’re a spy, that’s the way the game works. What is it this time?”

Where to begin with this one. “So, you remember Howard and I met during the war, correct?”

“Yeah, working for the Army developing weapons.”

“Not just any weapons,” Peggy clarified. “I mean, we did work on others, but we were brought together to work on specifically one - the super soldiers.”

It took Angie a long moment to piece together what she meant by that. “You mean like Captain America?”

“Precisely Captain America.” Everyone knew of Captain America. He’d been the poster child for American propaganda, touring from coast-to-coast in that ridiculous show, wearing that even more ridiculous outfit. Angie had noted how she had gotten to see him herself, sighing over his picture in the newspaper, much as most women did back in those days.

Angie was intrigued now, considering. “You mean to tell me you knew Captain America personally?” She whistled, shaking her head. “Gees, English, the amount of secret information you got up to. You know how many woman would love to claim they worked on him?”

“Stop,” she chided at Angie’s impish grin. “I am serious! I knew Steve from when he first came into camp, long before he was...what did you call him?”

“Many things, but I think the kids these days would call him a ‘hottie’.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at Angie’s still apparent delight at it all. “Long before that. He was this scrawny man, shorter than I was, so underweight a stiff wind would blow him over...but the heart he had! He was more determined than any of the other soldiers there, and twice as brave. He didn’t even think twice about throwing himself into danger, even if the danger was a dummy grenade that everyone else ran from.”

She had of course thought him sweetly foolish that day, if nothing else because it would have been smarter to kick it into the clearing and hope to God that you and no one else would die in the explosion, but Steve had bravely fallen on top of it, assuming his frail body would shield everyone else. It would have, she supposed, but she’d been more awed by the fact he hadn’t thought twice about it before doing it. While Phillips had gnashed his teeth, Peggy had commented that it showed the sort of quick thinking and bravery he had been looking for in his soldier, which had only caused Phillips to gnash his teeth more and glare at her winsome smile. Whether she liked to admit it or not, she’d started falling for Steve that day, as he lay there blinking up at her from the dirt.

“Anyway, he was the one chosen for the serum, and the rest of it you know. But, we stayed in touch through the war, and when he formed the Howling Commandos, I was their handler. That was the work I used to do for the SSR, you know, working in the field, working in intelligence and feeding that to the boys. I spent so much time slogging through Europe with that group of madmen...to be honest, I’m not sure I wasn’t half mad myself.”

Angie was already picking up where this was going, her expression soft as she watched Peggy, as if pieces were finally starting to fall into place for her. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you? Steve Rogers?”

“Yes,” she sighed, simply, her heart full with the confession that she should have told her friend years ago. “Steve was rather hard not to fall in love with.”

“Wasn’t that the truth,” Angie chuckled, shaking her head. “I should have known. You always changed the subject when he came up, and if Howard was around he always watched you like a time bomb that might go off.”

“I didn’t know I was that obvious.”

“You weren’t, else I would have known ages ago. So the question is, was he as crazy about you, too?”

“I certainly hope so,” Peggy chuckled, thinking of all the quiet moments, the dumbstruck stares, the guilt he had after the Private Lorraine incident outside of Phillips’ office. “I...we never really got a chance to talk about it before everything. It was the war, and everything was falling apart. We were out in the field more than we were ever in civilization. Truth was we just were so focused on that, the war, of trying to win, of trying to survive, we just never got around to it.”

“English,” Angie sighed, half exasperated, half brokenhearted. “You mean, you two…”

“No,” Peggy replied, with a brief shake of her head. “We...had one conversation over the radio as he was flying the Valkyrie into the ocean. He told me he was sorry that he was going to have to take a raincheck on that dance he promised me. I told him that he would have to meet me the following week at the Stork Club. We joked about how he couldn’t dance. He didn’t learn how, you see, and I was going to teach him.”

She broke off, eyes burning once again. She supposed it was all right, she had already made a mess of herself crying earlier. “In any case, he went off the radio after that. Howard searched. We never found him again.”

“Oh, Peggy, honey! How come you never said anything about any of this?”

She shrugged, dabbing at her eyes with her already much mangled tissue. “It never came up, really. I mean, outside of that dratted _Captain America Adventure Program_.”

“Oh, that!” Angie laughed, before pausing, a strange looking passing before her eyes darted to Peggy, questioning. “Betty Carver...Peggy Carter? That was supposed to be you, wasn’t it?”

“Bloody hell,” Peggy muttered, reaching for her purse and her tissues once more, pulling out another fresh one and blowing her nose, lightly. “If I find out who came up with that character, I will punch them in the nose.”

“You weren’t the beautiful triage nurse who got captured every week by Adolph Hitler?”

“No, I was the SSR agent who actually saved their hides at least three times from Nazi spies, and another time from a patrol who happened to get too close. If Barnes had been any less of a shot, we’d have all been killed.”

“He wasn’t a child sidekick, was he? Because that always struck me as horribly irresponsible.”

“Bucky? No, he was older than Steve by more than a year. Those two grew up together.” Peggy had never understood what had happened when their stories and legacy made it into the media. “Also, he was a sniper, which would have caused a lot of uncomfortable questions if he were a child.”

“That was what I thought,” Angie’s eyes glittered, mischievously. “So there were no breathy declarations by the fireside, waxing poetic about how tough and strong Captain America was?”

Even after all these years, Angie still could pull off the vapid, airy tone of the actress who played Betty Carver. “Certainly not! I would never have debased myself that way.”

“Well I certainly know you weren’t sewing and cleaning for them in camp, because I lived with you.”

“I will say, the one thing I do like about the modern era is the ease of cooking for oneself at home, topped only by the fact I can order just about anything I want.”

“And it is certainly better than anything you made, English, no offense.”

Peggy laughed, lightly. “None taken! It is nothing more or less than the truth.”

“So you were in love with Captain America this whole time!” Angie sounded far more awed by that than Peggy appearing in her life again sixty years after she disappeared.

“It’s more than that, Angie. All these years, I thought he was gone. We all did. You heard that radio program, that part was true. We thought he flew his plane into the Arctic, never to be found again, that he was dead.”

Angie had always been smart, and she caught it in an instant what Peggy was getting at. “He’s alive? Still?”

Peggy nodded, barely containing her hope. “So I’ve been told.”

“What, did he get time-traveled to?”

“Oh, no.” Peggy was sure the science of all this was muddled. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she understood it all herself. “His serum, it kept him alive even despite the cold. He’s still up there somewhere, Angie. We are looking for him now. I hope we find him this summer. Once we do, with technology and medicine being what it is now, we can revive him, bring him back.”

“Bring back Captain America?” Angie tugged at the brim of her hat, as if that were the most insane piece of the story she’d heard today. “I don’t know what this world would do with the likes of him.”

“You can’t say they don’t need him.”

“Oh, they do,” Angie nodded, considering. “And I think that maybe you might need him too. My God, English, you really did just step through time to save the world and find Captain America all over again?”

Peggy could only grin stupidly at her dearest friend. “Honestly, are you terribly surprised by any of this?”

Angie could only laugh, long and hard at that statement, unable to contain the strangeness of any of it. “Oh, hell, Peggy, this is you. No, I’m not surprised by any of this. If you told me you’d traveled the universe and found little green people and that the moon was made of cheese, I would just assume it was true, because why not? You are always doing something crazy.”

Peggy could only snort in laughter herself. She wasn’t wrong.

From the doorway into the garden, Angie’s granddaughter, Lauren, stuck her head out, glancing at the pair of them giggling to themselves. “Doing okay, Nana?”

“Perfect!” Angie smiled, beckoning Lauren out. “You kept this a good secret from me.”

“You don’t get many of those anymore,” Lauren replied, unapologetic. “And SHIELD told me you two knew each other, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Peggy jumped in, realizing Angie didn’t know the full extent of her cover. “Yes, I explained to her we worked together in the past, on that film project you did.”

Angie, bless her, had always been quick on the uptake and used her improvisational skills to the hilt. “You had the best stories to tell me about your work in SHIELD. To think, you going into a mission, taking on a load of terrorists all on your own. It’s a wonder you ever made it out alive!”

Peggy paused, frowning at Angie’s off-the-cuff story, realizing her friend was having her on and wasn’t even sorry for it. “Err...yes, well, crossed signals on the parameters of our mission, I’m afraid.”

“Well, good thing you have so much experience in hand-to-hand combat. Did you know Peggy here is a legend at SHIELD?”

Lauren turned, arching a dark eyebrow up in surprise at Peggy. “Really?”

“Not really,” Peggy lied, tempted to swat at Angie beside her. “I mean, I suppose I’m respected, but certainly not a legend.”

“Oh, don’t be fooled, dear, Peggy here has done more remarkable things on a Tuesday than the rest of us have done our whole life.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Peggy snorted, dryly, at Angie’s impish expression.

It was enough for Lauren to be impressed. “Well, I was going to make dinner soon, Grandnan’s old spaghetti recipe. I was curious if you wanted to join us.”

“She makes it the same way my mother did, if that’s any encouragement,” Angie offered, and Peggy could see her friend wanted to spend more time with her. She glanced at the time on her watch, considering, knowing that Stark might figure out at any minute she wasn’t in the compound and try to make a break for it. Still, SHIELD agents were on the perimeters. They would let her know if he went anywhere, surely.

“I suppose I can stay,” Peggy agreed, smiling up at Angie’s granddaughter. “And besides, you can tell me more about yourself and your career.”

“How long do you have to hear about it,” Lauren teased, hands on her hips. “Because I have a lot to say on the subject, especially the way Hollywood treats women and people of color.”

“Lauren has a lot of opinions on things,” Angie teased, mildly.

“Well, she is your granddaughter, after all,” Peggy replied, patting the other woman’s hand.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy has some words for Tony.

It was late before she managed to make her goodbyes to Angie and her granddaughter, Lauren, full of food and promises to speak again soon. Consequently, Peggy hadn’t looked at her phone once in the hours since she had left Malibu, pulling it out to message Sharon and seeing the many efforts on the part of the Los Angeles HQ to reach her. Swearing, she dialed, even as she started her borrowed car, waving at Lauren before pulling off down the street.

“This is Carter,” she said as the line picked up, already on alert. “Where is he?”

By the time she got back to Malibu, her formally jubilant mood was already sour. She was met at the perimeter by Agent Solozarno, one of the Los Angeles based agents who she had worked with the previous fall. A large, burly man, he had the look of a bodyguard, but he was all sheepishness as he walked up to Peggy’s window, already begging apologies.

“He blew past us earlier. None of us were expecting it, and you know those cars he drives. There was no way one of our SUVs was going to catch it, not on the PCH. We figured it was safer for civilians if we let him go and monitor his whereabouts.”

“And what were they,” Peggy snapped, less angry at the agent than she was at Stark.

“Far as anyone could tell, he just went to Stark Industries and back. He returned a couple of hours later with a few large model tables shoved into the passenger seat. I don’t know how he got them in there. Then asked one of us to go in and help him unload them into his lab.”

The cheek of the man. “And did you?”

“Yeah, I sent Lui and Barkley in with him to help him unload and set it up, but then he kicked them out. Lui said it looked like a model table from one of the Stark Expos. What he wanted with it…”

“It’s all right!” Peggy cut him off with a wave, knowing it wasn’t his fault and more irritated that Stark now knew he could get out whenever he wished. “Has he left since?”

“No, ma’am, though Barkley thinks he’s doing home remodeling, judging from the noise up there.”

“Who the bloody hell knows what he’s doing,” she muttered, irritably. “I’m heading up, I’ll let you all know if I need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he called as she rolled her car window up and made her way up the winding road of Stark’s driveway. When she came to a stop in the circular drive she could see lights on and the place ablaze, the few plastic tarps up here and there billowing in the breeze. She climbed out of the car, rounding it to grab her handbag and the containers of pasta and meatballs, the scent of tomato sauce and garlic lingering as she slammed the door and stalked back into the house.

“Good evening, Miss Carter,” JARVIS called, a hint of guilt in the AI’s tone as she slammed through the front door.

“Good evening, Mr. Jarvis. Is he downstairs?”

“He is, Miss Carter, but he’s left expressed instructions not to be disturbed.”

“Is there a bloody reason I can’t get down there?”

“Mr. Stark’s lab is password protected. Only those who have a code may have access inside.”

“And are you going to let that stop me, Mr. Jarvis?”

There was a pause. “No, I don’t believe I will, Miss Carter.”

“Good,” she shot back, pausing just long enough to make her way to the ruined kitchen and put her leftovers inside, before tossing her handbag on the corner and stalking to the stairs. With pounding feet she made her way down the concrete steps, marching to the glass door and tugging it open. JARVIS was good to his word, it opened as she wandered into the space, frowning at the chaos inside. “What in the…”

“Don’t stand there!”

Peggy jumped, inching away towards the door as Stark came marching past with a giant wheel of wiring coiled and hefted over his right arm. He dropped it by where she stood with a grunt, sighing in relief as he stood, turning to her in mild annoyance. “What?”

“You broke the perimeter.”

“Yeah, that was…” He glanced at his wrist, then realized he wasn’t wearing a watch. “Years ago, where have you been?”

“Toluca Lake on personal business.”

“What sort of personal business is in Toluca Lake?”

“Personal!”

“What, like spy stuff personal? Meeting up with Romanoff to do your secret girl club meetings?”

Peggy could only blink at the inanity of that statement. “Do you assume we meet to gossip over tea and discuss what you're up to in your dark, cavern lair?”

He considered for the briefest of moments before brushing past her. “Technically, it is a basement built onto a concrete outcropping that is dug into the cliffside, but you know, I like the whole ‘secret cave in the bottom of my mansion’ superhero aesthetic to it.”

“You haven’t explained why you left,” she snapped, following him as he wandered to a workbench, picking up items to shove into his pockets.

“And you haven’t explained why Toluca Lake,” he responded without looking up.

Peggy took back everything she ever said, he wasn’t just like his father, he was worse. She scowled as he lackadaisicaly picked through his tools, unbothered.

“I went to see a friend,” she relented, finally, crossing her arms across her chest. “An old friend.”

He shot her a sideways glance, continuing to pick through things. “Not a quick pop down to SHIELD headquarters to make a report on me and tell Fury all my deepest, darkest secrets?”

“Like what, that you drop your socks all over the place and that you have an entire shelf of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in your pantry?”

“That is comfort food, thank you very much, and you are a guest in my house and I don’t need you snooping around on behalf of SHIELD.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at his histrionics. “Not everything is about you, you do realize that? As a matter of fact, SHIELD couldn’t care less about the macaroni and cheese or the million dollar pieces of art you have in your house, nor do they care about your dirty socks, your messy lab, or the fact you have an arsenal for your suits set up in it.”

He turned to look at the suits on display, each in their own case, save one, presumably the one Rhodes had made off with. Still, it was enough to give him pause as he turned back to his work at hand. “Didn’t stop you from sending Agent Romanoff to spy on me.”

“Are you going to hold that against us forever?”

“Maybe,” he replied, shortly, shrugging. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.”

“Are you upset because she was spying on you or upset because you didn’t figure out that she was spying on you.”

He stiffened and Peggy felt a small thrill of victory in the argument. His frown was slightly exasperated. “She’s working for Pepper now, did you know that?”

“Yes, Fury even told you that the other day. Were you not listening?”

“Probably not,” he said, honestly. “I was too busy holding my face together after you punched me.”

“For being an ass.”

“Yeah, well, it still hurt.”

The bruise was now faded, for what it was worth, and Peggy had a feeling he really only was complaining about it to be a nuisance. “So, you are going to sulk over every little slight to avoid giving me what I asked for?”

He pursed his lips, pushing them out as he breathed through his nose in a long, woosh of a sigh, regarding her. “When you tell me why you were at Toluca Lake? Going golfing? Visiting Universal Studios?”

He wasn’t going to let this go and for the life of her, she didn’t know why. “I told you I went to see an old friend.”

He didn’t budge, only giving the universal gesture for her to continue.

“My old roommate, if you must know. She became an actress, Angelica Martin.”

That did surprise him. “Angelica Martin…. _the_ Angelica Martin.”

Why that should impress him when he met the fabulously rich and wealthy everyday, she didn’t know. “Yes, that Angelica Martin, or as I knew her, Angela Martinelli.”

“Seriously, you knew her? I know Dad knew her, his film company and everything. Man, I had such a crush on her.” He looked vaguely dreamy for a moment, breaking only when Peggy cleared her throat, pointedly. “Right, I mean, I was eight and I was watching reruns of her show, the one with her as a spy.”

“I know the one,” Peggy murmured, dryly.

“Hey, come to think of it, you are a spy, and she was your roommate. Did she base that off of you?”

“Possibly,” Peggy sighed, feeling they were rapidly getting off track at the moment. “Not really. What does any of this have to do with…”

“I mean, it is vaguely strange you are the inspiration for one of my earliest childhood infatuations.”

“Don’t be vile! Why is it so important that you need to know?”

“No reason, really.”

He was playing her like a violin and it annoyed the hell out of Peggy. “Why did you leave the perimeter?”

“I had to go talk to Pepper and you wouldn’t let me use my phone.” 

“What did you need to discuss with her that was so important it couldn’t wait?”

“That I am dying.” His insouciants shifted to seriousness in the blink of an eye. He uncrossed his arms to stuff his hands into his pockets, a gesture he often did when he was nervous, she noted. “I...I don’t know, I had this moment last night, watching some of the old films with my Dad, stuff from back when he did the last expo. You know, I don’t remember much about it. Just that old model over there.”

He waved to the corner where on a table the model layout of Howard’s City of the Future sat, pushed to the side. It looked old and dated, even to Peggy’s eyes, which were still just as much 1940s as they were 2010s. Tiny, plastic buildings scattered between sprinkles of trees and the round shape of fountains, a playland for a tomorrow that would never happen.

“I used to think that it was the best playset for my action figures,” Stark chuckled with a hint of golden fondness in his voice, something Peggy had yet to hear from him, really. “The few times I was ever in Dad’s office with him, I often got stuck there with toys, told to keep myself busy and out of trouble. Could play at...oh, I don’t know, spaceships, super heroes, I don’t remember. _Star Wars_ was a big thing for a while there. Anyway, Dad brought it out here when he moved to the El Segundo campus. I remember just how...proud he was of it, the idea of it.”

Peggy wasn’t sure where Stark was going with his rambling down memory lane. Perhaps he didn’t even know. “Howard was always good with big ideas. Sadly, he wasn’t always as good with the details.”

“Tell me about it,” Stark chuffed, wandering to where the table stood. “The night he was filming that intro for this thing, he kept doing take after take. I got bored and I got in the shot. He yelled at me, I ran off to Mom, crying, the usual. That was the tenor of our relationship. You know, I have it stuck in my memory that every interaction with him was just like that; I would do something he didn’t like or that annoyed him, he would yell at me to stop it, I would go running to Mom, or Jarvis, or Stane, or someone, go cry and feel sorry for myself. I don’t ever remember sitting down and having a conversation with Dad about any of it, of why he did the things he did, why he got irritated or lashed out. I don’t remember him ever telling me he was proud of me, or believed in me, or even loved me. People keep saying he did, but I don’t remember that. All I remember is a man who yelled at me for coming in and fucking up his perfect city yet again.”

Peggy’s heart broke at his words. “I can’t believe your father hated you.”

“Well, you knew him better than I did.” Stark turned to her, his expression pained. “I mean, was that a habit of his, underappreciating everyone around him?”

“Yes,” she replied, emphatically, shrugging to soften the blow a bit. “Howard often didn’t think through how his actions hurt people, like the women who have those ridiculous bracelets, by way of example. He thought he was being generous, giving them kindness through diamonds, showing his appreciation. They felt insulted that they meant nothing more than some pretty trinket. They felt hurt, used, angry, lied to.”

“Mmm, all emotions I distinctly understand.” He kicked a toe lazily against the table, making the model shake.

“I think for your father, he was so used to hiding what he felt it was hard for him to express it. Your grandfather, from what I understand, wasn’t a good man, and he had a rough childhood. Sharing his feelings wasn’t something he inherently understood.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Understanding his father on an intellectual level and coming to grips with the emotional fall out of his actions were two separate things. “You know, the day he died, we had one of those arguments. They were going to the Bahamas for a few days for their anniversary, their 25th. They were going to be back by Christmas, but I was pissed off because while Mom thought I’d be fine, Dad was convinced I’d wreck the house.”

He shot a mild, bland eye around his workspace, towards a giant hole in the wall by the door and up towards the ceiling, where even more damage lay. “To be fair, I think he had a point.”

Peggy smiled but said nothing as he continued.

“Anyway, we said things. Honestly, I don’t even remember what, but there was Mom, just like always, swooping in to smooth it out between the two of us. We went off to our separate corners, and I went to sulk while he and Mom left. They were going out to Long Island for dinner first, then a flight. They didn’t make it to the latter. Stane had to be the one to tell me they were dead. You know, the only thing I kept thinking over and over again afterwards was that I never got to just...talk to him. Say goodbye, ask him how any of this worked. I was the most brilliant kid in the world, this genius, and I didn’t know how to do anything, most of all run his company. He died, and he never got to tell me the important things, you know, like how to be in charge, how to be the person who keeps it all going...how to be an adult! How to face up to the messes you make and how to apologize, and most of all, how to not make it all about you all the time, how to be able to trust in someone else, to give up a part of yourself to someone else, to, you know, be a team player.”

It was a vulnerability Peggy had yet to have ever seen from Stark, a side of him that startled her, specifically because Howard so rarely showed that same sort of honesty, even with her. “I’m so, so sorry you never got that chance to ask him, to have those sorts of talks, to make peace with him. He was...complicated is a word for it.”

“It’s the word my mother liked to use to describe him.”

Peggy had to agree, it was the best one to describe Howard. “If it is any consolation, he too had a hard time in trusting other people, in being a team player as it were. It wasn’t just you he had that problem with, the number of times I ran into issues because of things Howard thought he could handle, or thought he was protecting me from, or just didn’t want to bother with explaining because he knew I would scold him.”

“You do know the idea of anyone scolding my father over anything is hilarious, right?”

“It happened many times and repeatedly,” Peggy insisted, not even sorry for it. “He was a narcissistic ass who rarely thought outside of himself and that only when forced to. He often forgot there were people around who loved and cared for him and that they were impacted by his actions, too.”

“And yet, you were still friends with him?” Even Stark had to wonder at that, perhaps because he realized he had treated his own friends poorly in all of this.

“Because, despite all of your father’s many, many faults, he was still worth it. He was a kind and generous friend and a man who tried. And I see that quality in you, too. And I’m sure if you spoke to Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts they would say the same thing.”

Stark didn’t look as if he was as sure about that. “Yeah, maybe...if they speak to me again.”

“So is that why you went down to see Miss Potts?”

“Yes...more or less.” He finally got around to the original point of all this. “I was watching that film and there is my Dad, saying these things to a camera - to me, really - that he never said to my face, how he built all this to change the world.”

He waved a hand across the model, causing a light from above to shine on it, as if by magic. The many buildings glowed in it, like a city full of dreams and possibilities, all of the hopes that Howard had always had for the world of the future, a world he would never get to see.

“This is my father’s life’s work.” Gone was the cocky, arrogant rudeness of earlier, and in its place was a man profoundly moved, if not a little in awe. “On multiple levels, really. Dad always wanted to bring the great minds together, to show how science and technology could better the world, so we wouldn’t have to fight over resources, have wars - but it was more than that. The one way forward he always saw was to end the dependence on finite energy sources. As far as he was concerned, therein lay madness. We wiped out entire countries, enslaved civilizations, created environmental destruction, raped, murdered, and pillaged and called it all progress, just so we could put a flag in it and call it ours. He thought that if we could find something that could provide clean, sustainable energy for the future, that it would be his gift to humanity. Perhaps, he thought it would be his absolution for everything, the long hours, fights with my mother, the lives lost to all the weapons he ever created.”

Stark gently ran a finger along the frame, tapping a brass plate on it. “Anyway, so he studied that HYDRA thing you all got in the war, the...Tesseract. He was trying to figure out how to recreate the energy that it gave off without using it, as he deemed it too dangerous, so he made the Arc Reactor, thinking that would answer the problem. The only metal he could find to use in the core was palladium, which has a high burnout rate. That means it’s not sustainable for long term or public use, but there’s nothing else on earth that could fill in the gap, nothing with the right combination of properties at least. So, he decided that if there wasn’t an element existing he could use, he would just...make one, I guess.”

“Make a new element?” Peggy had not ever been that heavily invested in the sciences, though she’d taken courses in them, enough that she knew that elements were not something one just went about making, they either existed or they didn’t. “How?”

“Mmm, a lot of guesswork on his part, as it was all theoretical. Back in 1974 there was no way to do that sort of thing, we didn’t have the technology to do it. Now, a good particle accelerator, sure, it can be done, but usually you don’t know what you can get. But, Dad took care of half the problem for me.”

He clapped his hands, and over the table a blue sphere hovered, a three dimensional ball of light that flattened to a two dimensional ball, then further still, scattering to overlay the model. It floated over it before settling, almost perfectly, into the key pieces of the map, a ghostly outline over it, like a blueprint. Peggy stared at it in wonder before turning her eyes up to Stark.

“Everything Dad wanted this expo to be about was the future, his dream of it. He had a weird sense of humor at times. I imagine it was his idea of a cool puzzle to leave behind, encoding his element into the literal fiber of this expo, hoping someday I’d find it.” 

Stark shook his head, patting the wooden frame. “I played at this table so many times as a kid, never seeing it. It didn’t even occur to me to see it, not until I went to see Pepper. I was trying to tell her about the poisoning, that I was dying...God, I’ve been trying to tell her that for weeks, but kept messing it up. That was why I broke the perimeter, I wanted to...if I couldn't’ figure this out, if I couldn’t make this work, I wanted to tell her something. I didn’t want her thinking I was that asshole who just made a mess of everything and left her to clean it all up. I wanted her to know the truth, to apologize, to try and explain to her. She’s always cleaning up after me, you see. I don’t know, I saw my Dad and what he said, what he thought about me - how I was his greatest creation. I had to find that out from a fucking film clip that got edited and locked in a SHIELD vault. I’d never have known it otherwise. I didn’t want to die on Pepper with things left unsaid, without her knowing about this and...you know, how I feel.”

Peggy murmured into the stillness that followed. “What, that you love her?” 

Stark eyes flickered up, half in surprise, half in humor. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only as hard to miss as the circle of light in the middle of your chest.”

Silence fell between them. Peggy didn’t know what to think. She stared at the table, with its lights, a legacy to a child Howard still had many years left with when he created it. Granted, Howard was already into his 50s by the time he had created this, a middle aged man marrying for the first time and having a son. He likely had no idea if he would survive to pass on anything to Tony, so he took the chance while he could to at least leave something that no one else could find, only his genius child, something that could change the world. Of course, he had no idea it would save the life of his son as well, but even if he had, Peggy couldn’t imagine Howard wouldn’t have given everything to create it.

“So,” she finally hedged, musing. “Where does one find a particle accelerator?”

That seemed to be a much easier answer for him.

“Well, the closest large one wouldn’t be practical for this type of thing, but I can whip up a pretty quick and dirty smaller one for our purposes. It would be a one and done sort of get up, of course, but if I thread it through the lowest level and with enough magnets, my calculations say I could maybe get just enough oomph I could do what I want to do and maybe get one shot at this.”

Peggy nodded at the blueprint in front of them. “And it will make this?

“In theory, yeah, enough so I can get a new source for one of these.” He tapped his chest, briefly. “Anything else, I’d need to employ a bigger accelerator and more investment into making it, but I need to see if it works, first.”

“Well then,” Peggy intoned, cocking a brilliant smile at Stark from across the table between them. “You’ve already made a start. How can I help?”

She caught him off guard with that. “You want to? With your pretty clothes and your perfectly painted nails?”

“Please, I tramped through Europe during a war, I can get a little dirty if I wish.”

“I like a woman who is willing to get dirty,” Stark joked without missing a beat. “You go get changed and meet me down here, I’ll put you to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up to today being...such a good, good day. Thank you to those who said Wednesday chapter cheered you up this week. I hope you are all feeling better.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy gets a nickname

In the end, Peggy changed while Stark helped himself to the leftovers, explaining his plan to Peggy while he chewed on pasta and meatballs. While she only understood a quarter of the jargon, she got the principle in its most basic sense. He set her to work upstairs, running cable and wiring, a job that she understood enough she could handle that fairly on her own without having to ask for his assistance every five minutes. His job seemed to primarily be in banging on things for a while downstairs, the sound ringing through the entire house as Peggy worked, along with the occasional shouted curse. Whether Stark was directing these towards whatever he was pounding on or to his two lab robots, who Peggy had learned were named DUM-E and U, she couldn’t tell. The poor things seemed to be a favorite target of Stark’s abuse, and Peggy found herself oddly protective of them.

They were several hours in when he finally came up from below, a laptop in hand, flopping on one of the few pieces of furniture that hadn’t been destroyed the night of his birthday party. Without preamble, he opened it, fingers flying across the keys. Peggy eyed him balefully, stiff with sitting in one space for so long doing fine work, her fingers torn and roughened from stripping and connecting wires, her shoulders aching from carrying bundles of the stuff around the open space.

“So, I have several big orders of heavy, large piping coming in tomorrow first thing so I can begin laying it. You think your boys might be so kind as to let them through when they get here?”

“I can let them know,” Peggy assured him, making a note to send a message to them before she went to sleep...if she slept at all that tonight. “How long should it take you to assemble?”

He clearly had calculated that all out, but he hummed as if he were guessing. “Oh, you know, between installing those and setting up the electromagnets and prismatic lenses, probably most of the day. Another few hours to set up calculations and have JARVIS run some simulations to make sure I don’t blow up the neighborhood - or, you know, most of the west coast - and then we should be good to go.”

“I will endeavor the best I can to ensure you keep the property loss minimal,” JARVIS intoned, politely. “But I can make no promises where you are concerned, sir.”

“Duly noted,” Stark replied, continuing to type. Peggy chuckled to herself. The relationship between AI and Stark was not terribly unlike that of the original pair, and Peggy couldn’t help but think there was something on purpose to that. That Stark was much more quick witted and sarcastic than his father was obvious, Howard had charm and a sharp-edged humor all his own, he was nothing to Tony who seemed to make up quips as fast as he calculated possibilities. His AI could keep up with him in a way she wasn’t sure Edwin could have even on his best and most British day.

Stark had clearly noticed her watching him. He didn’t look up from his work, but his dark eyebrows rose in question. “Got something, Carter?”

She laughed at his use of her last name. “Nothing, just...reminiscing. And you don’t have to call me Carter, if you wish. Peggy is just fine.”

“Peggy sounds so...old.” He wrinkled his nose in mild disdain. “Like bobby socks and poodle skirts.”

Peggy laughed, conceding that the nickname likely was old fashioned now at days. “I hate the name Margaret. It makes me sound like someone’s maiden aunt, wearing musty lace, high neck collars and pearls.”

“What, you aren’t someone’s maiden aunt?”

She shot him a glare, which he ignored, as he grinned in puerile delight up at where she sat perched.

“I will not dignify that with an answer,” she replied, archly.

“How scandalous,” he chuckled, utterly unapologetic. “Aunt Peggy doing things during the war that would cause her mother to faint.”

“You assume it was even all during the war.”

That did surprise him, as he actually stopped in his work. “Wait...how old were you when it started?”

“Eighteen,” she replied, twisting two strands of wire together, pleased she actually shocked him so. “And no, teenagers in 1939 were not terribly different from those in 2011.”

“Good God, you were a baby!” He stared up at her on the stepladder she was sitting on, as if seeing her for the first time. “I mean...why did they let you even fight in a war?”

“Lots of teeneagers were, though in fairness, I wasn’t in the SOE until a year later.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “At that age I was..done with MIT and likely traveling on one of my post-grads and getting trashed at every opportunity I got.”

By trashed, Peggy assumed it involved drugs and alcohol, a favorite pastime of youth, particularly in this modern era. “I had decidedly less time for that, being that we were at war. I was hunting down the Tesseract, as I recall, or at least hunting down the archaeologist who knew about it and was informing Johann Schmidt.”

“Playing Indiana Jones to Belloq?”

She frowned down at him. This clearly disappointed Stark. “Don’t get that reference?”

Peggy sighed, returning to her work. “Honestly, you and Sharon should become friends.”

“Is she cute?”

She had to hand it to him, his reflexes were exceptionally good. He dodged out of the way of her flying tool easily. “Hey, I was joking, it was...a joke!”

“For a man professing his love for his CEO just a few hours ago, I’m surprised you would want to know.”

He wasn’t ashamed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t find someone attractive in a subjective sort of way.”

“Not my niece you can’t!”

“Gees, Aunt Peggy,” he grumbled, pulling the tool from out of the couch cushions and holding it up. “For a woman of your age, your aim certainly hasn’t diminished.”

“Keep up the age cracks and you’ll see how good it actually is.”

“All right, all right.” He held up his hands in surrender, tucking the tool into his pocket. Laughing, he returned to his work for several long moments as she did her own. It was a comfortable silence for some time, as Peggy finished the last few wires, her hands aching and her shoulders throbbing, before she climbed down off the step ladder. “All done, I believe. You can check it in the morning to see how I did.”

“Mmm, thanks,” he hummed, half distractedly. “JARVIS, I’m starting some programming to control the stream and bombardment of the light, if you can run the calculations for me and finish that up tonight, that would cut some of the time out tomorrow so I can work on assembly.”

JARVIS responded with smooth assurance. “I’ll see what I can do, sir.” 

With that, Stark closed his laptop, wearily eyeing Peggy with sleep reddened eyes. “Let’s call it a night, Aunt Peg. Get some sleep, come back at this in the morning.”

“Aunt Peg?” She was exhausted, it had been a long day, but even she couldn’t work out that name. “Why that?”

“Because you aren’t a maiden aunt?”

It was a turn in logic she didn’t precisely follow, but it amused him. “All right, then.”

“Besides, I look at this this way, you are about the closest thing I have to an aunt on my Dad’s side. And I like you better than my mother’s surviving sister, Beatriz, so you have the honor of being the new, favorite aunt.”

“You do know I have nieces and nephews, correct?”

“Why not adopt another?”

She had the sense that his question was loaded and she had to step carefully here. She smiled, sleepily. “All right, I suppose what is one more in the pile? Go to sleep, Tony. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You too,” he called as she shuffled, wearily, to her bed.

She managed to message the agent on duty at the bottom of the hill, wash her face and brush her teeth before she collapsed into the feather soft bed, blacking out until the gentle, quiet voice of JARVIS called out to her.”

“It’s 8:30 am, Miss Carter. I believe you wanted to be up and assisting Mr. Stark.”

Peggy snorted, snuffling into the soft pillows, trying desperately to ignore JARVIS.

“Miss Carter,” he patiently persisted. “I’m afraid I must insist as Mr. Stark’s has already pulled out his jackhammer and I cannot guarantee a hot shower for you after this point.”

Jackhammer?

“All right,” she muttered, throwing herself upwards and out of the bed, climbing into the luxuriant shower as commanded. It took her several long moments to wake up, taking her time with the various shower settings and luxuriating in it for all that it was worth. After all, knowing Stark’s penchant for destruction, JARVIS could be correct and she might not get another chance until she was safe in her own New York flat.

She had just finished and was toweling herself off when the telltale, metallic pounding started from just below her room. Several items on shelves and tables shook and skittered, threatening to fall, but didn’t. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t wreck the last of the house.”

“Most things in the house are protected against earthquakes, which are frequent here, but as the house needs to be redecorated anyway I don’t think Mr. Stark is giving it overmuch thought.”

“Clearly,” she muttered, pulling on a soft pair of leggings and a t-shirt, the sort of clothes she wore for the gym. She’d always been fit, even in the 1940s, and since her time on the Farm, reacclimating herself to this century, and certainly to the fighting styles of modern agents, Peggy had made an effort to spend some time everyday in some sort of physical activity. She’d kept up with it less while stuck in Stark’s mansion as his gym had been one of the scenes of his brawl with Rhodes, but she’d at least walked and run while there. Today, however, she had a feeling she’d be hauling and helping Stark with the pieces of his particle accelerator.

She bounded downstairs to find Stark in full on demolition mode, jackhammer in hand, safety glasses and headphones on as he pounded through marble and concrete. Peggy stood, watching him, trying not to choke on dust as rock particles flew in a cloud from his work, and failing miserably. He stopped when he caught sight of her.

“Good, you’re up. Got coffee from Coffee Bean in there, or tea if that’s more your thing, and some bagels. Gas up, it will be a long day.”

Summarily dismissed, Peggy escaped the noise to where food was hidden, toasting a bagel quickly and sipping at first coffee, then tea, finding both exceptionally good as she chewed through her quick breakfast. By the time she was done, blessedly, the metallic pounding had stopped. Stark was now crouched on the floor, brushing off something lodged in the substructure, a metal box, large and rather important looking.

“Do you need me to help with anything?”

“On this, nah!” He was already pulling out a screwdriver from somewhere on his person, waving it towards the driveway. “They delivered what I needed, though, it’s out there. If you could, take a look at each of them. They should be spiral molded, but make sure they aren’t bent or banged up, that the joints are straight. If I’m running high amounts of energy through this thing and smashing particles together, I can’t have it coming apart at the seams.”

That sounded...frightening. “Right, I’ll take a look. Want me to set aside any that aren’t fit?”

“Yeah, just set them on the side.” He waived her off as he returned to whatever he was doing, yelping mildly as he managed to stab himself with his own screwdriver.

Peggy went outside and hoped vaguely they didn’t both die from whatever it was Stark was doing.

She spent the morning with the crates, inspecting each, covering herself in shredded packing material and smashing fingers with the heavy tubing. She’d just made it to the second to last box when the phone in the pocket of her pants vibrated against her leg. She pulled it out, surprised to see Coulson’s number on the screen.

“Carter,” she answered, shortly, blowing a crinkled, curled bit of packing material out of her eyes, rubbing her nose vigorously.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to call back some of the teams looking for Banner for you.”

“What,” she squawked mildly. “Why?”

“We got something big in New Mexico.”

What was in with New Mexico that SHIELD cared so much about. “Does this have to do with the Einstein-Rosen Bridge”

“I think so,” he said, sounding uncertain. “We’ve had an 084 close to a major SHIELD facility, which means we have to pull out all the stops.”

“An 084? What is an…”

“An object of unidentified origin, usually powerful with the potential of causing havoc if it is in the wrong hands.”

“So is it a weapon? A bomb? A particularly aggressive road runner?”

She could have sworn she nearly got a chuckle out of Coulson. “I see you are a fan of Chuck Jones and his work. I highly approve of this.”

“Are you going to make me really ask Romanoff?”

He finally relented. “It’s a hammer.”

She thought he was still joking. “A hammer?”

“As God as my witness, it’s a hammer.”

“Like one you can buy at the hardware store?”

“If they have this kind of hammer at a hardware store, I’d have to wonder who their supplier was.” 

Peggy still had to half wonder if Coulson wasn’t putting her on. “All this fuss for a tool that maybe fell off a plane?”

“Hammers don’t fly off planes, and besides, this came through a wormhole. Also, it’s a warhammer.”

Peggy hadn’t expected that.

“A warhammer?”

“That’s what our archaeology team says it is, based on the photos I sent in.”

“Is it something maybe native?”

“A weapon like this wouldn’t have been used by the Native American tribes in the area, no. This looks to be heavy duty, the ruins are similar to those found in northern European cultures, Germanic, Scandanavian, those sort.”

That sounded eerily and uncomfortably familiar. “Did it do...anything?”

“So far, no, it’s just been sitting there in the middle of the desert.”

“Sitting there? Are you going to keep it sitting there?” 

“Well, since no one can move it, for now, yes.”

Peggy leaned against one of the wooden crates, wiping sweat off her brow and wondering if perhaps the sun was getting to her, or maybe Coulson. Quite possibly both. “Wait, it’s a Germanic warhammer that appeared magically through a wormhole and landed in the New Mexico desert and you can’t move it?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

He wasn’t laughing at her, and Peggy didn’t suspect he was joking either. “All right, I will concede, your mission is much stranger than mine.”

“I don’t know about that, you still are juggling a pair of mad geniuses, one whose got a weaponized suit and the other who turns into a monster.”

“Mmm, the one who has the suit is currently trying to build a particle accelerator in his house, and inexplicably I’m helping.”

Clearly, for Coulson, after his magic hammer this wasn’t the strangest thing he had heard all day. “Stark found what he needed?”

“It will require some work, but yeah, he seems to think so.”

“Well, then, I hope it works out. We need him.”

“I know,” she murmured, glancing to see Stark sauntering out the door. “Keep me updated on the situation. I may need to borrow them back again if we don’t get any sign of Banner.”

“Will do. Sorry about this.”

“It’s not like it’s something that happens everyday.” She said this in full knowledge that the last year of her life had been consumed with one strange thing after the other. “Goodbye.”

Stark of course was curious, but clearly didn’t want to appear so. “Checking in with big brother?”

“Something like that,” she muttered, dully. “Strange weather in New Mexico.”

If he believed her, or frankly, if he cared, he didn’t say. His focus was on the crates. “Think you’re strong enough to help me haul these downstairs and put this thing together?”

Peggy pulled herself to her full height, which wasn’t much shorter than Stark, even in comfortable, athletic shoes. “Do you think I’m not strong enough to?”

He blinked at her, and from the vague panic in his otherwise blank expression, guessed he knew there was really no good way of answering that question. “No, no...any woman who kept up with the 107th I’m sure can help me haul steel into my house.”

“Good,” she replied, hands on hips. “I’d hate to give you another black eye to prove my point.”

He might have mumbled something about a mean right hook, but obediently helped her load the crates onto the dollies to roll inside.

The rest of their day was spent fitting and joining what felt like miles of tubing through the entirety of the basement. The entire job was jury-rigged, or as Stark liked to call it, “Macgyvered,” with tubing propped on bookcases, tool chests, sawhorses, and at one point over the hood of one of his very expensive looking, classic vehicles. Each of the pipes was fitted out with the prisms that Stark had made, the purpose of which Peggy was mystified by, and each section of the set up had to be connected to the others, all wired through to the box up above in the floor of the house and to the cabling Peggy had helped to install the night before. As Stark put it, it would either work completely or set the house on fire.

“This reminds me of the lab from _Frankenstein_ ,” she gasped, exhausted, running a sweating arm over her hair. “And it is about as mad.”

“Well, we’ll see if I get to live or not at the end of this.” Stark was busy wiring some of the last pieces of his installation, a thin screwdriver clasped between his teeth. He took it out to twiddle it on something he was working on between his fingers, frowning as he looked around the work space of his lab. “I need something to level this off. See what I got in some of Dad’s old crates, he likely had something useless in there I could shove under here.”

The crates of Howard’s things had been shoved to the back along with the model of his City of Tomorrow, behind the makeshift particle accelerator and well out of the line of fire of anything Stark might accidentally destroy. She opened several, sorting through books and notebooks, none of them the right size. She turned to the next crate, opening it up, before stopping in her tracks, her breath stolen right from her lungs.

There, under Stark’s discarded polo shirt and half under a set of three ring binders, was a battered and half broken shield. Despite being worse for wear, the familiar red and blue rings and the star of silver were recognizable and hit her so hard she nearly fell on the crate beside it. With shaking hands, she picked it up, the lightweight metal flimsy as the pieces rattled on it. It wasn’t the reliable, sturdy vibranium shield she knew and loved so well, not at all, but it was so very close.

“That will work, bring me that.” Stark’s peremptory order broke Peggy from her daze, as she spun on him. He was barely looking at her, fiddling as he was with his work. Had he not seen this in here? Did he not understand?

“Do you know what this is?”

“Yeah, I need it,” he muttered, insistent and short, clearly paying little to no attention to it.

“You need this?”

Her irritated snap finally shook him enough for him to turn and frown at her. “Yeah, it’s just the right...what?”

Her stricken expression must have finally clued him in. “You know what this is, correct?”

He shrugged, looking from it, to her, down to it again. “It was a costume prop I used once, a long time ago, for Halloween. Howard made it for me from some mock-ups he had lying around for Captain America’s shield. I don’t think I’ve seen that in, what, thirty-five years.”

It took Peggy a full, long minute to catch on to what he was saying. “You dressed as Captain America for Halloween?”

That irked him on some level, as he frowned, holding his hand out for it. “I was six and the shine hadn’t worn off of Cap’s mighty shield yet.”

“But you did dress up as him?”

“Yeah, well, considering how Howard went on about him and all,” he grumbled, clearly embarrassed by his admission to her. “The romance didn’t last. The next year I was a Jedi with my own, homemade lightsaber.”

“So a small part of you admired him once upon a time.”

It wasn’t something Stark wanted to admit to, judging by how his irritation seemed to be deepening. “You could just come on the other side of this and help hold it up while we slip that under there.”

Realizing she was pushing his good humor, she did as he bid, climbing under the tubing to hold up the other side of it, allowing him to slip it under at just the right point and contact that he wanted. When they let go, he slapped a level on it, eyeing it, and nodding firmly. “We’re good. See, all level.”

So it was, Peggy guessed. To her, frankly, it looked like nothing more than a backyard science experiment fated to go wrong. “So how will this work, when you do power it up?”

“Fairly simple process,” he replied, breezily. “I’m basically creating a laser beam of light with which I’m bombarding particles with. All I need is a bit of a primer, something I am using as the base from which I will change the nuclear composition into something else, in this case sticking with good-old fashioned palladium.”

“What are you changing it to?”

Stark grinned with the glee of a small boy. “I don’t know, yet, because it doesn’t exist.”

That was the part of the son that reminded her of the father. “Will it work?”

“If Howard’s calculations were right, and they usually always were, then yes it will work. And if we can manufacture this on a larger scale, then the possibilities are endless for the Arc Reactor and its abilities. Could revolutionize clean energy.”

“Right now, let’s just get started with the reactor in your chest, shall we?” Starks always did tend to think in the grand scale before the personal, Peggy observed.

“Sure, first thing in the morning.” Stark nodded at a clock on the far wall, which indicated it was well after midnight. “What’s one more day to get this done?”

Peggy was bone weary herself. “I hurt in places I didn’t know I could hurt.”

“This coming from a woman who fought in a war.”

Peggy glared at his mild teasing. “If I hadn’t been here, how would you have managed all of this?”

“More slowly, but I’d have done it. Not the first time I’ve built something revolutionary alone in my basement.”

Peggy glanced at the remaining suits in their respective cases. “I suppose not. But help is always useful. All you got to do is ask for it.”

Her point was well taken, thankfully. He nodded, wiping his filthy hands on a spare rag nearby. “You’ll do for a lab assistant, Aunt Peggy.”

“I’m not going to lose that moniker anytime soon, am I?”

“Nope,” he shot back, unapologetic. “Call it a night. We’ll finish this in the morning.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony makes a new element.

Despite a night of sleep, and being relatively young and fit, everything hurt the next morning. Peggy felt she could be forgiven for indulging in a long, hot soak in the ridiculously fabulous tub overlooking the ocean, working out kinks in her back and shoulders. It was the sort of luxury she would have killed to have during the war after cold nights sleeping on the hard ground. Tough as she was and skilled as she was, the sort of lifting and carrying she did all in one go yesterday helping Stark wasn’t what she was used to, certainly not in her post war life. She chided herself somewhat for that as she finally managed to crawl out of the warm waters and dry off, dressing and preparing for her day.

Consequently, she was far later going downstairs than she might have been otherwise. Stark, she had guessed, had been up for hours, fiddling in the lab. Sure enough, she was unsurprised to find him down there, tweaking prisms in his accelerator and checking notes scribbled in what passed for his handwriting on a yellow legal pad close at hand. He hardly looked up when she entered.

“Sleeping in late today,” he called as he worked.

“Someone got a massive amount of free labor yesterday and is shocked that said labor had to have a bit of a lie in.”

“Yeah, well, break is over.” He nodded to a set up in the center of his giant contraption. “Soon as I get all this set up, then we are going to give this thing a try. Jay, buddy, what do we got?”

The AI responded with his ever present equanimity. “If all things go according to plan, the new element should have an infinite lasting power as a core alternative, with no corrosion or bleeding into your system. Once it is complete I will need to run a diagnostic on it in the new reactor to see if it will actually perform at optimal levels.”

“Let’s see if Howard was really as brilliant as they all keep saying he was,” Stark intoned, mostly dryly, but Peggy could hear the hint of worry in his tone as well. He was afraid it wouldn’t work.

“He very rarely was ever wrong about one of his inventions,” she tried to assure him, earning a skeptical look from Stark for it. “I did say his inventions, people were another thing.”

“Glad to know it wasn’t just me who had those sorts of interactions with him.” He ducked under the piping of his contraption to where a rondel sat up on a stand, fiddling with it and a triangle of silver that sat in its middle. For not the first time in her time spent with the younger Stark, Peggy vaguely wished she could throttle Howard, or perhaps just take Lang’s device and go back in time, anything. There was a wealth of unspoken angst, frustration, and hurt laying there between Tony and his long dead father, and no way for either of them to hash it out now. Speaking from the perspective of someone who knew Howard when he was young - younger than even Tony was now - she couldn’t speak into who he had become twenty years later when he had his son. Judging from the brief film clip she saw on the opening night of the expo, that Howard felt like he was a million miles away from the one she had known.

“I’m sorry, you know.” She didn’t know why she said it, only that she felt it should be said. It gave Stark pause, as he turned to frown at her, confused.

“For what?”

Peggy twisted her fingers, unsure as to how to express the sentiment. “For...for the fact you didn’t get to know the man I knew. For the fact that your memories of him are not happy ones. That he never opened up to you or told you about what was important.”

Stark shrugged, turning back to his twiddling. “Not your fault. Honestly, that would be like blaming my Mom for the way he was and she was just as frustrated with him as I was half of the time.”

It was the first time she had heard him discuss Maria Stark in all of this. “I wish I could have gotten to know her.”

He nodded in a vague way as he turned to climb back under the accelerator. “You’d have liked her. She’d have liked you.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “She was a woman with a big heart, generous to a fault, who had the patience of a saint. Only thing that explains why she put up with Dad at his worst, especially with the alcohol. She was never loud and boisterous like him, but she was a force of nature in her own right. Didn’t put up with his shit either.”

Peggy wasn’t going to say it out loud, but she thought that Maria Stark sounded more than a little bit like Pepper Potts.

“Anyway,” Stark murmured, reaching to a makeshift work table beside him, grabbing a pair of goggles to toss her way. Peggy grabbed them, eyeing them skeptically. “Laser might be bright, best to have them for safety reasons.

Peggy did as she was told, slipping the goggles on as Stark did the same. He grinned madly as he turned to his contraption. “Let’s light her up, Jarvis!”

The lights in the basement went considerably dimmer as the power in the house clearly began to be redirected to the wide look of the particle accelerator. Peggy glanced nervously upwards as Stark stripped off his top shirt, down to a dark undershirt, tossing it in the vague direction of his toolbox as he grabbed a giant wrench.

“You might want to stand out of the way,” he called to her, nodding to where his two robots, DUM-E and U, sat in the background, looking vaguely worried - or, she supposed, looking as worried as two arm-shaped robots lacking faces possibly could. “Believe me, Dumb and Dumber over there are cowards, safest place you could be.”

They both whistled sorrowfully over the whir of the machine. They reminded Peggy more of golden retrievers than robots, and she felt the need to sooth them as she wandered to join them in the kitchen area of Stark’s workshop, patting one - maybe U - on the length of its arm. “Don’t listen to him, I think you are quite clever for a mechanical arm.”

The machine chirped happily at her affection. Stark shook his head, perhaps in disgust, turning his attention to the accelerator instead. He dropped the last prism inside the apparatus. 

“Initiating the prismatic accelerator,” JARVIS intoned overhead.

The machine became louder as Stark moved to eye what was going on inside through a clear panel in one of the pipes. He straightened and began turning a giant wheel at the top, redirecting a beam of light out of the window, intending it for the apparatus in the middle with its triangle of silver metal. At least, that’s what Peggy supposed was supposed to happen. Unfortunately, Stark’s aim was just a bit off.

“Uh-oh,” he yelped as the laser instead began burning into the concrete of the wall itself, cutting through the masonry and everything else in its path; signs, a metal tool chest, a bookshelf, papers. Peggy gasped, holding on to the robot who whimpered softly as Stark finally managed to hit the mark he had intended, aiming the beam on the triangle in question. It began to glow with the force of the laser, a filament of light bright even to Peggy’s shaded eyes.

In all it only took mere seconds, less than a minute. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, at least not with the creation of a new element. The machine turned off and Stark stared at the still glowing metal in brief awe, mesmerized by it, before scooting under his accelerator to take a closer look at it. “That was easy!”

He peered at it for a long moment before reaching inside with a pair of tweezers to pull it out. It still glowed an unearthly color, but seemed solid and not molten. It was bright enough to be seen, even with the sunlight streaming through the scant windows in Stark’s lab.

“Congratulations, sir,” JARVIS called, calmly, “You have created a new element.”

Peggy blinked. “Just like that?” She had expected...she wasn’t sure what she expected. More fireworks, perhaps. If elements were forged under pressure in stars, wouldn’t there be something more?

Stark reached across the workbench to what looked like a new miniature Arc Reactor, dropping the small triangle inside.

“Sir, the reactor has accepted the modified core. I will begin running diagnostics.”

“Fabulous! Knock yourself out!” Stark set it on a stand, studying it for long moments, the blue light eerie, shining on him, before he turned to Peggy sheltering with his two robots with a broad grin. “So...I just did that!”

Peggy could only smile and nod, patting U affectionately. “Yeah, you just did.”

“I mean, it’s not everyday a man makes a new element. Well, I suppose anyone at a particle accelerator could, but they are more interested in things like the behavior of particles in quantum physics, and trying to see if other dimensions exist, so, you know, their loss.”

He was elated and Peggy couldn’t blame him. How many other human beings could claim to do what he did? “So now what?”

Stark shrugged, wiping his brow with a forearm before waving it at the Arc Reactor on the table. “Well, I’ll let Jarvis do his thing, then we will take it out for a spin, see if it works out. I have a feeling it will be fine. Once that’s done, well...I suppose I could figure out commercial uses for this finally. That’s the one thing Dad didn’t do. You know, clean energy, running buildings, maybe cars, could apply it to transportation in general, I suppose…”

“I meant,” Peggy cut in, gently, chuckling at his brain clipping forward the way it did. “What will you do now? If this works, this means you are no longer dying. This means you don’t have to live like every day is your last, and you don’t have to be a bloody idiot about everything now.”

“Ahhh, that!” He grimaced, hands slipping into his pockets again.

Peggy sighed. She hated to rain on his parade and his new element, but he had left a bit of an unholy mess. “Rhodes still has your other suit, your company is still under fire from all your actions and Potts is the one holding down the fort, and the Senate and the Pentagon are going to be screaming even harder for your creation. None of that has changed with your new invention here.”

“Can’t you give a guy, like, fifteen minutes to celebrate and throw a party,” Stark grumbled, loudly, eyeing his new element with pride.

“I could, but the rest of the world won’t give me that sort of time,” Peggy shot back, taking off her goggles to set on the table. “And I’ve spent quite a bit of time here with you on this.”

“Ahh, yes, babysitting,” he muttered, sourly.

“I don’t know,” she mused, unbothered by the sulk in his tone. “I’ve also gotten to know you as you. That was worthwhile.”

Up went one dark eyebrow in a rather dubious expression. “I can’t say the last couple of weeks have been my best.”

“Which is good, because I’ve gotten to know you at your worst and haven’t come to hate you, yet.”

A tentative, small smile finally graced Stark’s expression as he studied her. “I suppose that’s...good?”

“It is,” she replied, hesitating. “I know I will likely always compare you to your father. Let's be honest, you two are more similar than you like to admit.”

He at least grudgingly conceded that. “Fair, I suppose. The old man and I did have a lot in common.”

“And you will always have trust issues that will make working with others difficult at best.”

He opened his mouth to protest this, thought better of it, closed it, then shrugged, sighing. “Also, a fair assessment, I guess.”

That he accepted her observation without complaint showed another key difference with Howard. He at least accepted criticism. “All that said, at least...consider and think about the future and your suit, of the things you could do and ways you could help.”

He grimaced, hunching his shoulders near to his ears. “So you still are pushing the agenda of Fury’s special club?”

“For now,” she hadn’t heard otherwise from Fury, either about the budget for it or about Steve. “But I suppose it depends in part on you. If nothing else, think on what SHIELD can offer you by way of protection in all of this. You come under SHIELD’s auspices, we call off the Pentagon, Stern, and all those in the US government who would rather take your suit and keep it for themselves. You have very good lawyers, but the military already has the suit and they will try to take all of them from you and mass produce them and shut you out. SHIELD at least could help prevent that.”

He still wasn’t totally sold on the idea. “Yeah, but it would mean working with SHIELD.”

“The same organization your father helped me to create,” Peggy reminded him, pointedly. “SHIELD is as much your heritage as it is his legacy. He’s not here to protect you from all of this, at least let us try and do that.”

She doubted that it had ever been put to stark quite that way before. He softened, somewhat, rolling it over in his head before eyeing her. “Let us or let you?”

Peggy paused, realizing the point he had gotten to long before she had. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know if SHIELD is as invested, personally, in my well being as you are on a personal level.”

Peggy didn’t bother to apologize for it. “I did say that I owed it to your father to see to your well being. I left him holding the bag to come through time, and...that likely added to the situation you found yourself in with him. Had I been there, perhaps things would have been different between you two. Perhaps he would have had time to be with you, to be a better father.”

“Maybe,” Stark conceded, leaning against the piping of his contraption. He didn’t look convinced. “Could be he would have been just as shitty of a father no matter what. I suppose we will never know, will we?”

“No,” she admitted, softly. “But he isn't here, I am, and I can help. At least let me do that.”

He considered, running a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. “I’ll think on it.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, pointedly, causing him to hold his hands up surender.

“I said I’d think on it, just...let me get past the idea that I’m not dying, yet, then we can talk. Like you said, I got some things I’ve got to work out, like, you know...my relationship with Pepper and how I’ve basically been impossible, and things with Rhodey, though in fairness that fight the other night wasn’t the worst one we ever had, if you can believe it, and at least I didn’t set a car on fire this time."

Peggy thought about asking, for half a second, then realized that she probably didn’t want to know the answer. “I...you know, I think for now, my work here is done. Your element, if it works, should set you up.”

She wasn't sure why he was so surprised by her announcement. 

“So what, just like that, you’re out?” He looked hurt as Peggy made her proclamation. She laughed, wondering what in the world he had expected.

“I do have other work to do, Stark, outside of keeping you on task.”

“Tony,” he corrected, automatically.

“You are by far not the only issue I have on my plate at the moment,” she continued, moving towards the stairs as she spoke. “I still have to try and run interference on your behalf with the Pentagon, which is likely going to involve a rather unpleasant phone call to your favorite general, Thaddeus Ross.”

“Good old, Thunderbolt,” Stark snorted, expressing everything he needed about the man in one noise. “How is he doing, anyway?”

“He is determinedly trying to annoy me,” she admitted, already frustrated in that corner. “I have the political advantage in this one, however, and believe I can talk him down considering your recent discovery and some missteps he’s made of late. But, I have at least two other pending messes to deal with and you aren’t one of them, so it’s back to New York I go.”

“Well, you know, New York is nice this time of year. And, Pepper is there right now with your girl, Romanoff. She will be out overseeing this weekend's demonstrations at the expo. Hammer is presenting, so she’s trying to mitigate the chaos.”

He was trailing behind her on the stairs, running a constant chatter as Peggy ascended to the main floor level, stopping in between before going upstairs to where her borrowed room and things were. Even then, he kept babbling as he did, mind and feelings running a mile a minute. “And you know, perhaps we could all meet up. I could, you know, treat you as a thank you, take you out with her...maybe have you help explain to her what’s been, you know...going on with me...and how we are going to fix it, of course. Might set her mind at ease, knowing that SHIELD is on top of this. She likes SHIELD, she...she really likes Coulson, that guy who helped out last fall. Where is he?”

“In New Mexico checking out a situation,” she replied, crossing her arms as she eyed him levelly. “I’m not here to fix your relationship with Miss Potts, Tony.”

He at least looked abashed at that. “I know, it’s just...I did a lot to really upset her and hurt her. And, you know, fairly, she pointed out that I am self-centered, tend to not think of her, and I’m not saying she’s wrong, just that it is more complicated than what she realized.”

“And you need to explain that on your own,” Peggy shot back at him, softening the harshness with a smile. “It doesn’t take an idiot to realize she cares for you a great deal. Clearly, you do for her as well. If there is one bit of advice I can give you, it’s that if you find that person, no matter what, seize that opportunity and take it. Don’t wait around, because if you do, you may not get a second chance.”

A sentiment she knew all too well.

Whether Stark realized that or not, he clearly took her message to heart. He relented, glancing towards the stairs leading up. “So, I guess this is it? You just pack your bags and go?”

“I’m hardly the first woman who has done that to you, surely.” She couldn’t help a bit of tongue-in-cheek teasing. 

“Usually there is a lot more angry yelling and cursing involved, sometimes a thrown item or two. If I’m in the room, which I try not to be, there is occasionally a slap in the face.”

“I already punched you once. Does that suffice?”

“I guess it will have to.” He gently touched his cheekbone, the bruise having mostly faded by now. “I’m just saying that…” He trailed off, fumbling slight, a look that was unusual on the quick-witted Stark, always fast for the punchline. Sincerity, clearly, was difficult for him.

“I’m just saying thank you, for your help in all of this, for pushing me, I guess. I mean, I know you have an agenda in all of this, too, which I understand, but you went the extra mile and I appreciate that. Not that I wouldn’t have gotten there, but...well, baggage, and my own self-destructive tendencies, my continuous need to prove myself to a man long dead who I had a complex relationship with at best…”

“Tony,” Peggy cut him off, sensing a full on Stark ramble gearing itself up. “It was my pleasure.”

For all of his charm and charisma, which Stark had plenty of, the intricacies of real, interpersonal relationships in which people are vulnerable with themselves and their feelings still clearly baffled him. “Right, so I’ll just let you get back to the real world. Do I have a way of contacting you if I decide to come play for your team?”

Peggy doubted that Stark couldn’t find it if he wanted, but she played nice. “I’ll leave it with Mr. Jarvis.”

His frown was more amused than annoyed. “You know, he’s still not…”

“I know, Tony.” She smiled, shrugging. “Let me cling on to one piece of my past.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it. “Sure, I guess. Anyway, I’ll not keep you. Have a safe flight back.”

“Thank you,” she called as he turned, quickly bounding back down the stairs, his emotional capacity clearly done for the day. She left him to his arc reactor and new element, still awed, somewhat, with what she saw. After all, she knew that his father could do amazing and terrifying things in his lab sixty-years ago, why should it shock her that his son could just create a new element in his basement?

Packing did not take her long in the grand scheme of things. She had her bags packed, her work things stowed, and had even tidied the bedding and cleaned down the en suite, unsure when Stark would be able to get anyone to clean with the disaster that his house still remained in. With a sigh, she gathered her things, surprisingly sad to be leaving the house and its fabulous views. Perhaps she would be back, she thought, taking stock of the bay just outside of the window. After all, Angie was alive and well out here and she wanted to spend as much time with her as she could while she could.

“Mr. Jarvis,” she murmured, turning to gather her things. “I will be leaving now. Do you have my information for Mr. Stark?”

“I have it stored in his personal contacts list, which is the one list he bothers to check on a regular basis, unlike his general contact list.”

She smiled, wondering if that was an honor or not, considering the likelihood of Stark calling at unreasonable hours. “I suppose I should be grateful I rate.”

“I don’t know about that, Miss Carter.”

The AI’s response tugged at her heart. “Mr. Jarvis, I know you aren’t the Edwin I knew, but for what it is worth, it’s been an honor to get to know you. I hope that in future we get to work together more.”

“As do I, Miss Carter.” The AI paused, then spoke again. “I know that my predecessor, the man for whom I am patterned, considered you one of his greatest friends. I believe he would have been pleased to know you lived and that you came to the aid of Mr. Stark. I know that he considered it an honor to have known and worked with you, and I must say that while I am simply an intelligent program, I can at least understand his sentiment.”

She found herself growing misty at that, her throat tight as she replied. “Mr. Jarvis, I do believe that perhaps there is more of Edwin in you than even you realize. Thank you for your kind words.”

“It has been a pleasure.”

“Do give Mr. Stark my regards.”

“Of course.”

With that, Peggy gathered her things and headed downstairs to where her requisitioned car waited for the drive back over to Santa Monica and the waiting quinjet that would take her home.


	22. Chapter 22

Peggy was a little more halfway into her flight home when her phone buzzed on the table she had spread out on, Tony Stark’s face and name flashing on the screen. Surprised, Peggy picked it up, shooting an apologetic smile to the pilot, Jake, as she put it up to her ear.

“Tony,” she greeted him, more than a little dryly, considering she had just seen him. “Did I forget a sock or a toothbrush?”

“Don’t know, maybe?” He was clearly distracted. “Got bigger problems at the moment. Vanko is alive.”

It took Peggy a full moment to process what he meant by that. “Wait, we got intel he was killed.”

“Yeah, well, someone broke him out and he’s been hiding out with Justin Hammer for the last two weeks and is now ready to exact some sort of Russian blood feud all over the Stark Expo. I’m on my way there now in the suit.”

Peggy’s mind blanked as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. “How…”

“He called me, Aunt Peggy, chop-chop, get with the program. Ivan Vanko isn’t dead, he’s been chilling with my frenemy in Queens, and he’s wanting to get all eastern promises all over me, which I assume means there is going to be a lot of dead people if I don’t get out there in the next hour or so. Hammer’s got a weapons presentation, and if I know him, and I unfortunately do, he’s got his hands on that suit Rhodey has and is trying to use that and some other half-assed, cheap rip off to impress people, my guess using Vankos version of the Arc Reactor technology.”

Shaking free of her stupor, Peggy grabbed her notepad, jotting down particulars. “You know he’s targeting the Stark Expo?”

“I know he’s in Queens, calling from Hammer’s facility, and that’s a mile away. If he wants to hit me where it hurts, to tear down my father and his legacy, that’s where he would go.”

He wasn’t wrong. “All right, how far out are you?”

“I just left Malibu, I’m an hour and a half out. My guess, I’ll beat you there, but only just. I’ll need ground support there, though, in case Vanko gets violent. Think SHIELD can provide that?”

“I can call to have teams over there.”

“From Manhattan to Queens on a Friday night?”

He had a point. “I know someone in the mayor’s office. I’ll see if he can get me through to someone there, maybe they can mobilize something from the Queens side. Anything else you need?”

“I don’t know what I’m facing yet, may be one madman with a suit, may be a squadron of Hammer’s knock offs. I’ll know better when I’m on the ground. I’ve tried to get through to Pepper, she’s not answering her phone. Probably has me blocked.”

“Do you know if Romanoff is with her?”

“Like I keep track of your agents!”

Peggy decided to see if she could reach Romanoff as well. “So if we don’t know, what is your best guess of what you’ll need?”

“We have an evacuation plan, but we’ll need feet on the ground to ferry people out of the park and to the evacuation sites. We’ll need medical and comfort tents on the ground for people who are injured, and we’ll need transportation to get them away from there as safely as possible.”

“What about dealing with Vanko?”

“Leave that to me. I’m what he wants, if we get anyone else involved, they’ll likely just get hurt.”

Peggy hated to agree to it, but he was right. “I can see if the pilot can push this, but I don’t think I’ll get there any faster than you will.”

“If you can get the ground forces mobilized that’s a start. Maybe get through to Pepper, she is the one who headed up the evacuation and safety strategy team, she’s got it in her head. She’ll know what to do.”

“I’ll try,” she frowned, thinking. “Perhaps send me her number, I can call her myself.”

“JARVIS is on it. I’ll meet you on sight as soon as I can.”

He cut the call off, leaving Peggy blinking at her phone.

“Jake,” she called to the pilot. “We have a situation brewing at the Stark Expo in Queens. Stark is on his way. I will need to meet him there. Can you push this any more?”

The pilot turned to her, frowning in mild surprise. “Possibly, but FAA has some pretty strict rules on speed. I’ll phone in the closest tower to let them know it’s an emergency. What’s up?”

“Possible terrorist attack, it looks like,” she replied, as the other man turned pale. “I’m going to get on the line with SHIELD and the city to see what we can get out there. You get me to Queens and the expo grounds.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, beginning to work the controls and calling in somewhere, she presumed somewhere that he’d have to warn about their flight pattern. She moved to the back to make her further calls, starting with of course Romanoff. She was mildly surprised when the phone didn’t answer, choosing to message her as urgently as she could express herself. Her phone call to Potts did much the same thing. They both must be somewhere where their calls couldn’t be picked up. In frustration, she turned instead to Cassandra, trusting she could muster up the forces at SHIELD. At least she picked up on the second ring.

“This is Kam,” she answered, businesslike.

“Cassandra, it’s Peggy. We have a situation.”

“With Stark?”

“Something like that. The man who attacked him in Monaco, he’s still alive, and he’s in Queens. We have reason to believe he is preparing to attack the Stark Expo. How extensive it is or how dangerous is unclear at this time, but Stark is on his way from Malibu. I need you to get a hold of Maria Hill and Site Chief Braxton there in headquarters, and have them muster up whatever SHIELD resources he can get to back up the city’s first responders.”

She heard Cassandra swear, softly, scrambling to take note. “Any other details you got?”

“No, I’m getting ready to reach out to the mayor’s office on this, they can coordinate further. We don’t know for sure what Vanko is going to do, but Stark fears the worst.”

“Got it,” she replied. “I’m not far away, I can meet you and SHIELD responders on site.”

“I’ll let you know where I’m at when I get there. Stark will be incoming before I am, the hope is he can diffuse the worst of this quickly.”

“Wonderful, a terrorist situation in which we don’t know what the terrorist will do. Nothing to be afraid of here.” Cassandra’s tone was mostly sarcastic. “I’ll start putting in calls now.”

“I’ll reach out to the mayor’s office. Keep me informed.”

Her next call was to Julio Vargas. After all, Peggy had promised him she would let him know if something like this happened. Right now, she was simply grateful that she had him as a friend, a chance connection on her very first day in this very strange, modern world. Much like Cassandra, he picked up on the second ring, in the middle of some conversation as loud music played behind him. “Hello!”

“Julio, it’s Peggy.”

“Peggy, hey!” She could hear the delight in his greeting as somewhere in the loud, noisy background, Peggy could distinctly hear Juan calling out her name happily.

“Nito says hi, if you couldn’t hear him.”

“I’d say hello back, but I’m afraid this is serious.”

That sobered him as the background music diminished somewhat. “What’s up?”

“You know how you made me promise to inform you if some threat was coming and let the mayor’s office know?”

Peggy thought she could hear her friend audibly swallow on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

“An attack at the Stark Expo. Tony Stark is the one who reached out to me after a credible threat, but I don’t know any specifics. I’ve got my side mobilizing support for first responders, but any SHIELD response will be hampered by traffic across the East River. Can the mayor’s office get something more local going? Stark said Pepper Potts had worked out an emergency plan with the city, but I can’t get a hold of her.”

Julio’s reaction was nearly the same as Peggy’s had been, stunned silence. “I’m sorry...you said an attack?”

“Julio!”

“I know, I know,” he rushed to respond. Of the two halves of the couple, Julio was normally the level headed one in comparison to Juan, who was more excitable. Then again, she doubted Julio had expected this phone call on a Friday night. “I know who heads up the mayor’s emergency response team. I’ll call them directly and have them reach out to you. Are you somewhere they can contact you?”

“I’m en route back from Los Angeles right now, so yes, my phone is available.”

“On a commercial flight?”

“I’m SHIELD, Julio, I can rate one of ours for important travel, you know.”

“Right,” he muttered, clearly rattled. “Let me call and stay by your phone. Hopefully, it will just be a few minutes...hopefully.”

It was more like half-an-hour, as Peggy frantically tried to reach Romanoff and Potts. Cassandra had gotten a hold of Hill and the head of the New York headquarters and SHIELD was mobilizing. Peggy nearly cried with relief when her phone rang again with a New York area code number on it.

“This is Carter,” she snapped, phone to her ear.

“Are you the one trying to stir up drama with my team?”

Peggy was caught off guard, flabbergasted. She paused, blinked at the phone for a moment, then, put it back up to her ear. “This is Peggy Carter. Who is this?”

“Randall Mezza, I head up the Emergency Response Team and I get some call from someone in the Diversity office trying to tell me my job…”

Typical New York bureacrats, Peggy breathed, ignoring his overwrought protestations. “Is your job managing crisis developments in New York City?”

“Yes, but…”

“Good, then you are the person we need. SHIELD has received intel there will be an attack at the expo sight in Flushing Meadows. We can’t get personnel in there as fast as you can, and we don’t know how extensive the threat is going to be.”

“How come we’ve not heard of any threats?”

“You’re hearing about it now,” she snapped, wondering why it was so utterly difficult to comprehend. “We have reason to believe that a suspect who attacked Tony Stark several weeks ago is alive and is targeting the expo in order to draw Stark out. He is on his way from California as we speak and should be there shortly.”

“Stark again? Should have known.” Whoever this man was, whatever role he filled, he was less than impressed with Stark, and given Stark's track record, Peggy supposed she couldn’t blame him. “So you got a potential crazy man with a vendetta against Stark and you got no information for me on how he’s going to attack, specifics on where, what he’s going to do?”

“Something big, obvious, and involving a mechanized suit, most likely.” Peggy was already rather annoyed with this man, who sounded more bored than prepared. “We will need at the very least police on scene to help guide guests, medical in case someone is injured…”

“Listen, lady, don’t go telling me how to do my job, too.”

“Well, then do it and I won’t have to,” she snapped, wondering how this man got his position in the first place. “Considering that this is a city that is very high profile and has had several major incidents, I would think you would take a credible threat seriously.”

She wasn’t positive, but she thought she could hear the man’s teeth grind on the other end. “If this is another of Stark’s stunts to show off how amazing that dangerous suit of his is…”

“Do you really want to take that risk?”

She knew he was weighing it on the other end. “Fine, but if this turns out to be a giant waste of resources, SHIELD’s covering that bill, and I know people there I can speak to about it.”

“Wonderful, I’m sure they would love to hear your complaints. I’ll hopefully see your teams on the ground.”

She didn’t bother to wait for a response before hanging up. Swallowing down her anger, she returned to the cockpit where Jake was calculating on one of the screens. “How long do we have?”

“Forty-five minutes, give or take. Stark is likely going to beat us there in that suit of his. Word from the ground is SHIELD teams are mobilizing. How about the city’s emergency response?”

“I hope someone is there, but considering the man I just spoke to, I don’t know.” The obdurate Randall Mezza’s response puzzled her. “Keep a tab on what’s on the ground, I need to keep trying to reach Potts and Romanoff.”

“Right, Director.”

Peggy called up the number of Pepper Potts and dialed it again, wondering with vague worry why she couldn’t get either of the two women to pick up.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy deals with the fall out.

By the time Jake got the quinjet to Queens and landed in a nearby parking lot, nearly all of it was over. Even as they glided over the grounds itself, Peggy could see the destruction in its wake. Fires burned at all corners as firefighting teams worked to put the worst out, police had already cordoned off parking lots where cars had been exploded, the conflagration put out and no longer a threat to the highway overpasses they were under. In the lots that weren’t burning, the FDNY, NYPD and SHIELD had put up triage tents for the injured and tried to organize people, many of whom were wondering what had happened and what they were supposed to do now. 

Peggy found the New York HQ head, Lionel Braxton, fairly easily. He was in a deep conversation with what looked like a group of area commanders, all organizing together. As they broke up, he caught sight of Peggy, jogging over to meet her.

“Director,” he greeted in a low, rumbling voice. “Your warning gave us a leg up in terms of a response, though couldn’t do much about Vanko. He got the drop on everyone.”

“I know,” she frowned, wondering how in the world that even happened. “What do you got?”

“Pepper Potts has been working with NYPD to get guests out of the park in an orderly fashion. We have this center and another on the tennis courts. So far most everyone we’ve seen has come in with minor injuries, a few more serious situations we’ve sent on to the hospital, but it didn’t look like anything life threatening. Far as the police can tell us, they believe all guests got out of the park before the explosions.”

“And what in God’s name were those?”

Braxton’s dark face furrowed as he scowled. “Drones, specifically Hammer made drones, he was unveiling them here tonight. Vanko was using those to cause havoc and chase after Stark, though not sure in which order that was supposed to happen. They were all rigged to blow at some point, my guess is he wanted to create maximum damage and chaos at Stark’s big event.”

That sounded about right. “Where is Justin Hammer?”

“In custody, Potts had the NYPD arrest him and get him and his team out of there well before things were blown to kingdom come.”

“And where is she at?”

Braxton frowned, speaking into the communication device he had in his cuff, reminding Peggy somewhat of Coulson. “She’s currently on a call with the mayor’s office and his emergency management team on the situation.”

“Oh, Mr. Mezza!” Peggy didn’t bother to hide her feelings about that fellow. “I’m sure they are having a rather engaging conversation.”

Braxton’s knowing snort seemed to indicate he knew exactly what she was talking about. “Yeah, him, piece of work is what he is. Anyway, she’s got that.”

“And where is Stark?”

“No one has seen him since he took off, Vanko’s drones in hot pursuit. Potts says Vanko’s dead, he blew himself up. My guess is that if his job is done, he’s off site, likely at Stark Tower.”

Peggy glanced towards the Manhattan skyline, the tower glittering in the far distance by the Chrysler Building. “We have confirmation that Vanko is down?”

“From Colonel Rhodes and from Pepper Potts, yes.”

Peggy noted not from Stark.

“Right, when Miss Potts is done, if you can communicate to her that I would like to speak with her?”

“Sure,” Braxton replied. “You going to be around.”

“Yes,” Peggy nodded towards the triage area set up not far away.

She’d of course lived through the Blitz and bombing of her beloved home city. She’d seen similar such tents before, filled with shell-shocked victims, many in various stages of injury, some in grief, all frightened and anxious, their neat, tidy, very normal lives turned upside down. The people here perhaps were lucky in the sense that so few of them were grievously injured and none had lost any homes, but the shell-shocked look was still the same. The idea that this sort of violence could happen on a night out at an event designed to be so full of promise, of looking to the future, it caught nearly everyone blind. In truth, the fact there were so few injuries in the grand scheme of it all was a testament to both Stark’s quick thinking and Pepper Potts' own meticulousness as a leader.

The wet, plastic sound of a water bottle meeting asphalt and a whispered curse caught Peggy’s attention. She turned to see a poor fellow trying to manage an arm load of water, snacks, and two cups of coffee all at the same time. Clearly, he had just come from the comfort stations, set up to provide people water and other small things as they waited for the situation to become more organized and the police ran their protocols before releasing them home. He looked a bit worse for wear, a small bandage on his hand and another on his lightly bearded cheek. Mostly he looked haggard and a bit out of sorts as he stared in mild frustration at the bottle rolling across the pavement.

“Let me,” Peggy called, rushing to grab it before it rolled under a service truck, holding it up in mute triumph as she held out her hands for more of the odds and ends he carried. “Let me help you. Are you getting things for your family?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, allowing her to help with bottles and bags of snacks. When they sorted themselves into a more even distribution he nodded his head across the field of tents. “My wife is getting checked out over there.”

“All right, you lead on.” Peggy encouraged, following the lankier man as he threaded his way through the crowd. “I hope she is all right, your wife.”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, his reassuring smile more a grim line. “She tripped on a curb blindly, looking for our nephew. Scrapped herself up pretty badly, wrenched her whole arm I think, but, you know, survivable.”

“I’m sorry she was injured.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking exhausted, relieved, and scared all at once. “Yeah, me too. I was terrified for a moment there, we both were. You know, you have those moments when everything flashes before your eyes and you think that this is it, everything you love is right here. And I couldn’t help but think I could lose this too…”

The poor man was traumatized. She’d seen that before, too, the thousand yard stare, and despite her hands being full, she reached out to pause him with the back of one hand against the top of his arm. “Why don’t we stop for just a second.”

“But, my family...my wife…”

“She’s in good hands,” Peggy assured him, figuring if she was getting medical care, she would be fine for a minute or two while she calmed the poor fellow down. “I'm more worried about you at the moment. Why don’t we just take a moment, let you collect yourself.”

He blinked at her, dark brown eyes dazed and glassy as he nodded. Peggy found a small space on a grassy curb, unclaimed by anyone with which to let him sit and set down their packaged things. It was as she took the cups of steaming coffee from him that she noted his hands trembling.

“What’s your name,” she opened, figuring that was at least a good place to start.

“Oh...Ben,” he murmured, eyes distant behind his glasses with their nearly invisible frames.

“And you were here with your wife and the rest of your family?”

“Just our nephew,” his wobbly smile only just did manage to creep up his pale face. “He’s...he’s ours, you see. His parents died when he was just a toddler. We are all the family he has and he’s all we got! If anything had happened…”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, I found him. He’d gotten caught up in the crowd. We were separated when people ran for it.” The poor fellow ran shaky hands across his face. “If we’d lost him, I’d never forgive myself. I promised my brother I’d love him as my own if anything happened. Some godfather I turned out to be.”

Peggy’s heart broke for the fellow, shaken as he was. “But he’s all right, you said. He’s fine.”

“I know, he is.” The man, Ben, was so rattled. Peggy put a reassuring arm on his shoulders as he shuddered, tension and worry releasing in a small, breathy sob. “My wife and I...we can’t have kids, you see. We tried, and we were going to try adoption, but then everything happened with Richard and Mary, and here we are. And I love that kid, so much. I mean, he’s as good as my son! He’s so much like his father…”

He laughed, wetly, rubbing his eyes behind his lenses, sniffing loudly. “You know, he’s been harping on about this expo for over a year, since he heard about it at school! He’s a little science wiz, kind of like his dad. He begged us to go, and I was online everyday for three days trying to get tickets to surprise him for an early birthday present, you know. And we finally got through, not for opening night, but still, we got in. He wanted to see everything. We made a whole day of it, told his teachers we were keeping him home, came out here, you know, really wanted a treat. He dragged us to every one of the exhibits. The Iron Man one was his favorite, obviously, I mean, little boy and a robot suit. He’s obsessed with Iron Man.”

Ben lowered his hands, his sigh thready as he stared at the ground. “We’d just decided to head home and leave when it all started. We didn’t even get a warning. All we saw was a flash across the sky and then more flashes followed and that is when the gunfire started. People screamed and ran. God, if I never have to see or hear that again in my life, I’d be happy. I grabbed for my wife, and she grabbed for him, but he was gone already. We tried to find him in all that mess, people running, those...robots, whatever they were, firing. I don’t know how many people they got, if anyone. I couldn’t find anyone in all of that, not my family, not anyone.”

Peggy tightened her arm around him, offering comfort. “It’s all right. They found you. They’re safe. So are you.”

“Yeah,” he chuffed, nose stopped and eyes still damp. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a tissue to pass to him, discreetly. He moped himself up, blowing his nose as he seemed to calm down somewhat, enough that he graced Peggy with a wobbly smile. “Wow, I just...utterly melted down on you, all over the place.”

“It’s all right, I’m used to it. I’ve been there before.” She lowered her arm, grabbing the coffees to pass to him again as they slowly loaded themselves up.

She could feel the other man eyeing her curiously. “Are you with the police?”

“SHIELD, actually,” she smiled, tucking away a water bottle in the crook of one arm. “We came as back up to help the police. We were the ones who got wind from Mr. Stark that something was happening. We got here as fast as we could.”

“What was it even about?” He was asking the question Peggy was sure many other New Yorkers would be asking over the coming weeks.

“I’m sure we will know more when we investigate,” Peggy offered, diplomatically, unwilling to say more for now. “But the threat has been neutralized.”

Ben was a very smart figure, he didn’t need a deep explanation into things to know what Peggy meant. “Anyway, I’m heading this way if you want to follow. They’re over here.”

Ben wended his way through people and first responders, to a tent on the far end. There on a bench sat a lovely, dark haired woman, dressed in a pretty sundress, her left leg and arm heavily bandaged, the latter in a sling. Beside her sat a boy, as dark haired as the couple, his blue hooded sweatshirt askew as he leaned gently against her uninjured side, a toy Iron Man helmet laying on the bench beside him.

“Ben,” the woman called, murmuring to the boy who leaped up to see his uncle, running over to help. He couldn’t have been more than eight, wide brown eyes in his elfin face, and he eagerly held up his hands as Ben gave him packets of crisps and bars to run along to his aunt.

“How you feeling,” Ben asked his wife, handing her a cup of coffee as he surveyed the white bandages swathing the left side of her body.

“Like I got the world’s worst case of road rash, which I kind of do,” she replied, her Queen’s accent thick. She tilted her face up for a soft kiss. “And I’ll have to get the arm checked out, they think I jammed it all the way up to the shoulder, but they don’t think anything is broken. It will be weeks of PT though.”

“I’m just glad you are alive,” he sighed, softly against her hair. Remembering Peggy was standing there, mutely, with the water and other packets, he turned, snagging them both with a grateful smile. “Um, this is...you know, I didn’t get your name.”

“Peggy,” she supplied, easily. “Peggy Carter.”

The woman smiled, taking one of the bottles her husband passed to her. “Nice to meet you! I’m May, this is Peter over here.”

The boy, who had already dug into a packet of crisps, paused in his munching to wave, clearly too ravenous to care overly much about a stranger in a suit checking in on them. His aunt, mildly horrified, eyed him ruefully. “Is that how we say thank you?”

“Mank oo,” he murmured, softly, around his mouthful of crisps, much to his poor aunt’s horror.

“I promise when he’s not starving he has manners,” she chuckled, tousling his hair.

“He’s had a rough night,” Ben was clearly the more indulgent parental figure in this relationship, patting the boy’s shoulder. He glanced at Peggy. “Thanks for helping with the things and...you know, for letting me sort of melt down back there.”

“It’s quite alright,” Peggy assured him. “I’m simply glad I could help. If you two should need anything, please, don’t hesitate.”

There were protests from them both that they were fine, that they lived closed by and could make it home. Peggy had a feeling the young couple were both mildly embarrassed to have that sort of attention and was preparing to leave them to sort themselves out, politely excusing herself, when she heard her name in the mill of voices around. She turned to see Pepper Potts, still managing to look put together in her dark dress and tall shoes, walking towards her.

“Excuse me,” she told the small family, who watched with wide eyes as she moved to meet Potts directly, holding her hand out to the slightly harried woman. “Miss Potts, Director Carter, we met briefly a few months ago.”

“Hi,” she managed the friendliest of polite smiles, even if it was fraying a bit at the edges. “Thank you for sending in your teams to help. It was very appreciated, as was the advance warning you gave the emergency response. They were here almost before I knew anything was going on.”

“Mr. Stark was the one who warned me, all I did was put in some phone calls.”

“Did he?” She was surprised by that, but moved on, perhaps noting it for further discussion with him. “I apologize for not seeing your phone calls, the cell reception…”

“It all worked out,” Peggy assured her. “Any casualties?”

“We are still investigating, but so far it seems the guests got out without much injury. Of course, once the investigators and insurance get through here...” She turned slightly dazed eyes to the smokey ruins that was the Stark Expo and everything it had represented. “I am hoping there was no one else.”

Peggy sincerely hoped so as well. “Chief Braxton stated you confirmed Vanko is dead?”

“Well, Tony confirmed it, but no, I don’t have any visual confirmation. I’m assuming, guessing from what he said.”

Peggy made a mental note to have Romanoff follow up on that. “Can you explain what exactly even happened tonight?”

The woman paused, considered, as if weighing which side of her likely well practiced story she wanted to tell at the moment. “From what I understand, Justin Hammer was giving a demonstration of experimental drone technology he hoped to supply for the military. There was a serious malfunction in the system protocols for his product.”

Peggy had to give it to her, Potts was very, very good at how she spun this. “Miss Potts, not to step into your backyard, but this is a matter that involves not just Stark Industries, but local authorities and of course SHIELD. We have been working for several weeks on this case.”

“I know, or so Agent Romanoff told me.” Potts’ arched a delicate, strawberry blonde eyebrow at her in mild exacerbation. “Well, finally told me after she confessed she had been tailing Tony, first, then moved over to me to...well, I’m not sure why exactly.”

Peggy only knew that had been a Fury call, likely to get Romanoff away from Stark, but still with eyes on him. She doubted Potts would be particularly interested in those sorts of minor details. “SHIELD has been watching Mr. Stark for about a year now, mostly to ensure his safety and the ensured stability of Stark Industries.”

Potts wasn’t precisely thrilled to hear about that. “So, I’m just supposed to be okay that an international intelligence agency had an operative working inside our offices for a year, looking at and likely taking all of our secrets?”

“In fairness, Miss Potts, SHIELD is part of the reason Stark Industries is still in the control of Mr. Stark and now yourself. We are why Mr. Stane was stopped, or have you forgotten.”

“I haven’t, now, but the level of information Agent Romanoff had access to…”

Peggy cut off her complaint midstream. “Was no different than when Howard Stark was both the CEO of Stark Industries and one of the heads of SHIELD.”

That brought Potts to a dead stop, her mouth hanging open. It took her a full moment to formulate anything. “What?”

Peggy sighed. Howard did leave a rather large mess for her to manage, didn’t he? “Howard Stark was one of the founders of SHIELD. We already knew a great deal of SI’s operations. What’s more, Agent Romanoff is the one who tipped off your team to the other spies within your midst, not to mention the other nefarious things that Stane was up to. All that to say, SHIELD is not out to steal Stark Industries secrets, to compromise your corporate integrity, and we are very much not interested in taking Mr. Stark’s work. We want to help him, to bring him under our protection so that the government isn’t trying to do that very thing. I’m hoping you are someone who can help us convince Mr. Stark of this.”

She blinked, processing the information, before shaking her head in a grimace. “I just...seriously, could the Starks make it any more difficult?”

“They could, but you really don’t want them to,” Peggy muttered in a long-suffering sort of way. If Potts noticed, she said nothing.

“Okay,” she sighed, staring around her, blandly. “Well, I’m here till we get this situation settled. Perhaps, let me have a chance to get the preliminary reports, we can discuss in the next few days. Right now, I’m trying to handle the police, the clean up, the press…”

“Understandable,” Peggy granted, knowing the poor woman was likely overwhelmed at the moment. “In the meantime, SHIELD resources are at your disposal in terms of management.”

She hadn’t asked Fury about that, but if she was going to have the title of director, she might as well damn use it. Let Fury find the budget for it. All the more reason to argue for the Avengers.

“Thank you.” She looked genuinely touched by that. Peggy couldn’t imagine her first days as head of a multi-billion dollar corporation had been easy at all. This was the sort of situation that would send any CEO packing.

And Peggy knew a thing or two about being in the position Pepper Potts was in. “What can I do to help?”

If Potts was shocked by Peggy’s offer of SHIELD resources, she was floored by Peggy offering to jump in. A soft, grateful smile began to creep along the woman’s delicate features.

“You have skill with emergency management?”

“More than you know,” Peggy grinned. “Where do you need me to start first?”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy and Pepper use powers of persuasion.

The fall out from the Stark Expo fiasco was immediate the next morning..

_Authorities say it may be months, if ever, before the Stark Expo will be safe enough to open again. This after billions were spent on renovating the old Expo grounds at Flushing Meadows…_

_No comment has been made by Tony Stark regarding the events of last night. In a statement last night, Stark Industries CEO, Virginia Potts, stated that her thoughts and concerns were with the guests affected and their families and that she could not speculate further on the situation. Eye witnesses claim it all started during a demonstration in the main reviewing hall…_

_Justin Hammer was contracted a year ago by the Pentagon to fill the void left by Stark Industries abandoning their weapons contracts. Say what you will about Stark Industries leaving the military in a lurch, they were the ones who hired this Hammer guy. What was their vetting process? Did they have a vetting process? This guy seriously hired a Russian arms dealer and terrorist and no one thought this might be a problem?_

_How come no one has heard from Tony Stark in all of this? He created this mess! The minute he put on that suit and said “I am Iron Man” he had people gunning for him, and it keeps getting bigger and bigger. Soon, it’s going to be so big, he won’t be able to control it, and what is he going to do then? He may have this suit, but he can’t do this all alone._

Peggy glared mildly at the back of the cabbie’s head, despite the fact the man ignored her. He’d hardly said a word from the moment she had crawled in, flipping between channels on the radio, all of them blaring the news from the night before. Of course, it was all filled with the hysterical rhetoric that seemed to pass for news in this modern age, rage filled commentators all shaking their fist against the skies. In the fifteen minutes it was taking to get to her destination, she had heard a myriad of different speculations, but only one real consistent theme - where was Tony Stark and why wasn’t he saying anything?

The cab, blessedly, came up to a stop in front of her destination, the cabbie turning off the meter, not even bothering to turn down the radio. Peggy handed him several bills and climbed out, adjusting her hat as she slammed the door and turned towards the towering edifice of Stark Tower. Last time she’d been there, she’d come to see Obidiah Stane. Today was a Saturday, however, and most all of the normal employees were at home. There were several shops open and a nearby cafe, but the lobby was sparse as Peggy crossed it to the reception desk. A different young person, not the one she had met last time, sat there, politely inquisitive as Peggy pulled out her badge and her well-mannered smile.

“Good morning, I’m Director Peggy Carter with SHIELD. I need to see Mr. Stark.”

The young woman gawped at the badge briefly, dusky colored skin flushing as she tried to come up with some excuse, any, for a woman carrying that badge. “Errr, Mr. Stark is not…”

“Mmm, perhaps you hadn’t heard, he came in late last night. I know he keeps a penthouse here and that he’s in.”

The young woman blinked long, fake eyelashes, fumbling as to what to do. “Um, well, let me just call…”

Peggy reached across the desk, putting a manicured hand on the phone, slipping her badge back into her purse. “No need to bother with that, I can find my way up.”

“But…”

Peggy turned, making her way to the lifts, half expecting security to stop her at any point before she could get that far. When they didn’t, she called the lift she knew went to the highest points of the tower. No sooner than she got inside and the shiny doors closed, she realized why it was that everyone seemed so well behaved.

“Miss Carter, it’s a lovely surprise to see you here this morning.”

Peggy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “I wish I could say the same, Mr. Jarvis, but events being what they are...”

“I’m well aware.” The lift began to rise as the disembodied voice continued to speak. “I will say that Mr. Stark’s new reactor held up rather well to the situation, given the circumstances, and is still at optimum levels.”

“Wonderful,” she replied, pleased at least one good thing came out of yesterday’s escapades. “I trust that he is upstairs?”

“Yes, Miss Carter, though I feel I should warn you, he’s not alone.”

It took Peggy a second to process that before rolling her eyes. “Really?”

“Well, it might be somewhat more complicated than that,” JARVIS replied smoothly as the lift came to a stop. “But I will let him explain the matter.”

“It’s already too early in the morning for this,” she sighed as the doors opened into the living area of a palatial looking suite. Sunlight filled the space from the windows with their near panoramic view of downtown, far out to the glittering confluence of the East River and Hudson River towards New York Harbor and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. Just to her left was the Chrysler Building, one of the few relics of her early memories of New York, it’s Art Deco stateliness a reminder of her youth, still just as lovely among the more glittering columns of glass and steel that now passed for aesthetic beauty in the city.

The room itself was sparse, if she were honest, and hardly looked lived in. Furniture scattered the area, not to mention a wet bar and entertainment area, but it felt more formal. It took Peggy several long moments to realize that this room was in fact the same one she had seen in the film shown at the Stark Expo’s opening night. It had been redecorated since then, something more modern, with dark, leather furniture and glass everywhere. It had the look of a rich bachelor’s home, which of course it was.

Speaking of the rich bachelor…

“Aunt Peggy,” Stark called, rather sleepily, his dark hair a tousled mess that stuck up at odd angles from his head. He wore only sleeping pants, but he had a t-shirt in hand, padding into the room bare chested. His new Arc Reactor glowed brightly, a pale blue in a cylinder of metal, sunk unnaturally into the middle. Peggy frowned at it before looking away as Stark pulled on the soft, dark cotton over his head, tugging it down over the reactor but not diminishing the light.

“You are all bright-eyed and bushy tailed this early in the morning,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hectic hair, eyeing the outside world with a baleful glare.

“Hardly, I’m running on three hours of sleep and two cups of coffee, so don’t test me this morning.” She placed her handbag on the island for the kitchen area as Stark shuffled behind it, opening the fridge to stare at it bleakly.

“I’d offer you something, but I wasn’t planning on staying here, so I have no real food in the place unless you want cocktail olives.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“JARVIS,” Stark called. “Could you put an order into that cafe downstairs? You know, the usual.”

“And should I order the light cream cheese for Miss…”

“Yeah,” he snapped, cutting off the AI before pushing the fridge door shut. “Yeah, thanks for...you know, coming through the clutch there, yesterday. I know I kind of threw that at you.”

“It’s what I do,” she assured him, realizing in the moment that was precisely why he called her. Perhaps, she’d proven herself to him after all. “SHIELD is currently working with the NYPD, the FBI, and the mayor’s office to help mitigate the situation. I believe they have a press conference planned shortly.”

“JARVIS…”

“Already up on the screen, sir.” JARVIS pulled up a local news broadcast showing the gathered press in Queens, as people milled about before it officially started.

“Mute it till they have something interesting to say.” Stark rumbled, wandering to his coffee maker. “So beyond the fallout, which I assume will be massive, considering it did blow up my expo, what do the powers that be have to say about it?”

“Nothing as of yet, but Romanoff expects that it will be coming.”

“Does she?” Stark grunted, punching buttons as the sound of grinding of coffee beans clattered to life. He waited till it was done before he continued. “By the way, I feel I should tell you that Happy, my driver, feels both emasculated and turned on by her little display at Hammer Industries last night. Romanoff had all that firepower under that hood and nobody told me?”

“You were too busy pouting that we sent a spy in to protect you to be bothered listening,” Peggy shot back, unperturbed. “In any case, I’m sure Stern and his crew will be on the news channels screaming to heaven within the hour. After all, the way they will spin this is that your very existence invites the sort of threat that Vanko produced.”

“And Vanko wouldn’t have been a threat if Justin Hammer wasn’t such a jealous little bitch, which by the way is on them for empowering that asshole.” He pressed another button on his machine, the smell of freshly ground coffee brewing wafted enticingly through the kitchen. “They want to play that sort of game, I’m here to bring it.”

“I’m saying you don’t have to.”

“What? By playing with SHIELD?”

She merely glared at him, but he chose to ignore it, focused as he was on his coffee. “I would say you should consider it, since we were the first people you called when the situation got too big to handle by yourself.”

“Technically, I called you. You called SHIELD.” He pulled his mug from the machine, sipping at it blissfully.

“I am in SHIELD, of course I would call them, and you knew I would.” Exhaustion and exasperation laced her words angrily. “And believe me, our intervention is what is smoothing things out with the mayor of New York right at this moment and likely the White House and their chief security personnel.”

“And I’m grateful, but…”

“You should do it!”

The voice sounding from behind Peggy made her turn to see none other than Pepper Potts wandering in, clad in only one of Stark’s button down shirts, long enough to just barely be decent, completely uncaring of either her state of undress, Peggy’s presence in the room, or what it clearly signaled about how she got to be in that state. Cooly, she padded across to where Stark sat, grinning vaguely, so besotted he hardly blinked as she wandered up to him and took his mug of coffee from him, helping herself. Peggy found she could only flush, blinking as she chose to focus on her handbag on the counter instead.

“I...err...good morning, Miss Potts,” she managed, primly.

“Good morning, Director Carter.” Potts was clearly not embarrassed herself as she took a seat at the counter, still holding Stark’s coffee, forcing the thunderstruck man to make himself a fresh cup. “I happened to overhear some of what you two were discussing. I think it’s a brilliant idea, SHIELD coming in to work with Tony.”

That shook Stark out of his gobsmacked state. “I didn’t say yes.”

“You should.”

Tony glared at the back of her head in consternation as his coffee brewed. “I literally just had to fight for my life against a crazed Russian employed by an idiot and you are wanting to sell me off to spies?”

Potts snorted, unbothered. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I saved your life from one of his exploding, killer drones! And also, I ordered you a blueberry bagel with the light cream cheese you like, which is gross, but I did it for you!”

She glanced over her shoulder at him with the sort of soppy smile that Peggy had seen on many a moony-eyed couple over the years. “See, at least you remembered about the light cream cheese.”

“I do remember some things! Just...not the strawberries.”

Potts turned around to eye Peggy with knowing amusement. “He tried to bring me strawberries the other day as a peace offering, because he couldn’t be bothered to remember they are the one thing on earth I am allergic to.”

“They were good strawberries! Bought them from a roadside stand on the PCH, which is just south of Oxnard where they grow them, so they were...you know...fresh.”

“Anyway,” Potts cut in, returning her attention to Peggy. “What would this entire thing entail, exactly? Working with Tony?”

“I am capable of handling my own affairs!”

“Which is why you had me managing your life for the last eight years?”

He grimaced. “Touchè”

Peggy found herself struck by the banter between them, somewhat at a loss as to how to step in here. “SHIELD has been trying to recruit him to work for the Avengers Initiative.”

“Has been?” Potts arched one ruddy eyebrow at Stark. “For how long?”

“Since last fall,” Peggy supplied as Stark busied himself with his coffee, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

“Right,” Potts muttered, turning her attention to Peggy with a bright smile. “So what is this initiative, might I ask?”

“A superhero club,” Stark muttered, petulantly.

“It’s a team,” Peggy cut over him. “Specifically, it’s a group of individuals with enhanced talents who can be deployed into specific situations that are too difficult or big for an average strike team to handle. They would be one of the first lines of defense when things become too hot or too dangerous.”

Potts clearly didn’t like the idea of dangerous. “Tony isn’t a soldier.”

“Doesn’t stop him from taking on terrorists single handedly, does it?”

She gave the long-suffering sigh of someone who was well aware that was what he did and hadn't been able to talk him out of it. “Point taken.”

“If he agrees to work with the Avengers Initiative, he would be under the authority of SHIELD, not the US government.”

“Except that just swaps out one evil overlord for the other,” Stark piped up, grumpily.

Peggy rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Which evil overlord would you rather have, General Ross and the US military establishment, who would just take your tech, or SHIELD, which would allow you to keep it and develop it as long as you played nicely with us?”

“Neither,” he muttered, just as JARVIS floated in from overhead.

“Sir, I believe your food delivery has arrived.”

“I’ll get that,” he muttered, glaring at the pair of them as they sat at the island. “Try not to sell me up river while you’re at it, Potts.”

“But you are worth so much,” she teased as he sauntered out, presumably to meet whoever was delivering. She waited till he rounded the corner before she turned back to Peggy. “So what would this mean, exactly? How would SHIELD utilize him?”

Should she tell this woman she barely understood the very real dangers Peggy knew of in the nebulous future. Deciding to leave that piece out of it, she came at the situation from a different angle.

“You saw what happened last night,” Peggy offered, nodding to the television screen on the far wall where the press conference was just beginning. “That escalated to levels it didn’t need had there been a team in place designated to investigate and stop these sort of threats.”

“Like, what...terrorists?”

“Or worse,” Peggy shrugged, lifting a shoulder under her blazer. “In the last 100 years there have been no small shortage of situations a team like this could have headed off. The world is only getting bigger and more frightening. This initiative is designed to help mitigate some of that and to coordinate our resources, talents, and skills, rather than having them scattered between headstrong individuals with no oversight and even less planning.”

“To prevent vigilantes.” Potts could see where this was going and seemed to approve. “I mean, let’s be honest, that’s what everyone is screaming the loudest about with Tony, they are all afraid he will run off half cocked somewhere and do more harm than good.”

“Can you say you aren’t afraid of that yourself?”

Potts paused, her mouth pinching to a thin line, perhaps considering Stark and some of his wilder escapades. “Tony is a good man.”

“He is, I have no doubt of that, but impulse control has not been one of his strengths. And I will be honest, that fact about him is what his enemies are using against him. Having some level of oversight will cool a lot of heads in all of this. It will get Senator Stern off your back, it will get the military off your back, it will get the media off your back, and it will allow you to run Stark’s company without the added impediment of having to manage this entire situation while you try to find your footing as the new CEO.”

That hit home with Potts, who seemed thrilled with the notion of not having to manage two bonfires all at once. “That's why I think he should do it. Honestly, SI can’t take continued hits from Tony and his antics. Weeks on the job and I’ve spent nearly all of it just managing his crazy and there are other, more serious matters I need to attend to, like the mess Stane left in the company. Also, thank you to Agent Romanoff for giving me such a complete and thorough list of her investigation and all the problem areas. That saves me so much work.”

“I will pass on your thanks,” Peggy smiled.

Potts looked almost wistful. “She was good...very good. I mean...you sure she wouldn’t consider maybe coming and helping for a bit?”

“Agent Romanoff is one of the best assets SHIELD has, and I’m afraid we have to deploy her elsewhere now that the situation at SI is handled. I maybe could ask her to consider staying a few days to help you tie up loose ends, though.”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Potts mused, sipping deeply from her coffee. “She even sounds like a badass spy.”

A rustle at the elevator told them both that Stark had returned, bags of food in hand. “So have you sold my soul to Aunt Peggy, yet?”

Peggy could have cheerfully kicked him at that moment. Potts was momentarily distracted by Stark handing her a paper bag printed for the restaurant he’d ordered from, but it clicked with her after a moment, frowning at him. “Wait, Aunt Peggy? What?”

“It’s a joke,” Peggy rushed to smooth over.

“Kinda,” Stark shrugged, unhelpfully, pulling out a foil wrapped bagel smelling strongly of onion, garlic, and salmon.

“Kind of?” Potts turned her confusion on Peggy.

“It's...complicated?”

“In a _Back to the Future_ sort of way. You do know that movie is bullshit, right?”

Peggy glared at him from across the island, very much wishing she could throw something at him. “I’ve not even seen that movie, so no.”

“Should add it to your catch up list, it’s fun, Hollywood tries to figure out quantum physics and not doing it well.”

Potts was unimpressed with Stark’s comedy routine, clearly. “Hey, how about staying on point! What’s the deal with the ‘Aunt Peggy’ crack?”

Tired of Stark dancing around it, and knowing he was using it to distract from her real purpose, Peggy decided to tackle the elephant in the room before Stark started riding it around out of his sheer sense of perversity. “He thinks it's funny because I knew his father.”

Not one to let things entirely go, Stark was quick to tack on his own commentary to her appraisal. “And also because of how old she actually is.”

Poor Pepper Potts was very lost. She set her blueberry bagel down on the paper bag it came from, looking torn between frustration and exhaustion. “Tony, if this is some sort of joke…”

“JARVIS, could you tell Pepper here just when Director Margaret Carter was born.”

The AI’s smooth voice sounded almost apologetic to Peggy’s ears. “April 9, 1921 in Hampstead, England.”

“Looks great for a woman her age,” Stark gleefully muttered around a mouthful of his bagel sandwich.

Peggy sighed, rolling her eyes, over his dramatics. “Are you quite done?”

Potts, however, was just digesting this. “Wait...did JARVIS just say 1921?”

Peggy knew this was Stark’s repayment for dragging Potts into this argument and on her side as well. “As I said, it’s complicated?”

“As in...time travel complicated?” Potts was clearly picking up the clues Stark was putting down.

“Yes,” she sighed, glancing at Stark, who was completely pleased with himself for sidetracking the entire conversation she was having about bringing him into SHIELD.

“How?”

“That is a discussion for another day.”

Potts looked dubious. “I don’t know, time travel seems like a big discussion to have now. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It’s not, technically, at least right now.” Stark took a bite of his bagel with relish. “But I will invent it in the not so distant future.”

He dropped that tidbit to earn praise from Potts. Far from it, she merely stared at him as if he was mad, which guessing from his unperturbed state wasn’t an infrequent occurrence. “So you invented this, and what, brought her here to this time?”

“Not me, but I suppose I was involved. Was I involved?”

Between the travel, the late night, and the ridiculous amounts of coffee she had consumed, Peggy could feel a headache roaring to life behind her eyes. “I don’t know, you weren’t there, but I suppose so, if you invented the blasted thing.”

“See, I suppose I did,” he munched happily on his food. Peggy wondered, briefly, what Potts may say if Peggy just punched him again, but instead decided to try and bring order to the chaos Stark orchestrated.

“Yes, it is a long story, yes I’m from the 1940s, and yes, I knew Howard Stark. But...time travel has happened, I am here, and I am trying to put this team together and whether Mr. Stark likes it or not, it would be a good place for him.”

Stark wasn’t that easy to sidestep however. “Is that what Romanoff is going to say when she’s done taking her little notes on me?”

All the rapport that she had built with Stark over the last week snapped, Peggy’s exhaustion, frustration, and annoyance breaking it. Perhaps on another day, one in which she hadn’t been up most of the night after spending days trying to put together a potentially dangerous device in his basement, she might have felt differently. She found herself pushing away from the island, grabbing her bag with perhaps more force than was necessary. “I see there is no discussing it then, despite the assistance SHIELD has given you over the last week or so. Perhaps Romanoff is right, you are too narcissistic and self-centered to manage something like this.”

That was a shot at him she knew would land, and it stunned him that she said it. He blinked hurt, wide, dark eyes at her as she turned on her heels, Potts just as shocked as he was.

“Wait,” the other woman yelped as Peggy made for the elevator, holding a hand out as if to stop her from a distance. “Please, don’t leave just yet.”

“Miss Potts…”

“Just…” She trailed off, turning to a rather stunned Stark, seeming to wilt on the stool she was perched on. “Tony, I meant what I said. She’s right. I can’t...we can’t...Stark Industries can’t keep doing this!”

That shook him out of his stunned state. He frowned, setting down his half eaten bagel, wiping his hands on a paper napkin, restlessly. “Stark Industries has weathered bigger things than me. I mean, it survived last year, right, with Stane and my kidnapping.”

“But not with me at the helm,” Potts countered, softly. “I’m new at this, and I want to do well at this, not just for you either - for me. This is the sort of chance I’d have killed for when I graduated, and didn’t think I was going to get. It is already hard enough being a woman and being your former PA. I want to do well. I want your company to do well, and it isn’t going to if every week we are taking a hit because you are off saving the world and picking fights with the government.”

He didn’t like hearing that. Rolling his eyes, he flung himself up, tossing the napkin in the rubbish. “You heard what she said, they think I’m narcissistic and self-centered.”

“I said Romanoff thinks you are narcissistic and self-centered,” Peggy corrected, dryly. 

He wasn’t amused. “Is your opinion that far off from Romanoff’s?”

“She’s right, though,” Potts stepped in once again, handling Stark deftly. “Agent Romanoff is right, you are self-centered and a narcissist. Can you really deny that at this point?”

He couldn’t, she knew it, and so did Peggy. He glared across the space at both of them, before sighing and conceding. “Nope, agreed, I am both of those things.”

Potts continued, stepping carefully. “And if you know you are those things, this makes you more aware of these tendencies when dealing with others, correct?”

Stark eyed her, ruefully. “Are you trying your therapist’s tricks on me?”

“Yes! Is it working?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Partially, but I get the point.” He mildly scrubbed at his face, his true exhaustion from the week finally showing. He glanced briefly at the screen in the other room where Peggy surmised the press conference on the events of the previous night was still playing.

“Do you even have a team yet?” Stark finally turned his attention to Peggy.

“We are in the process of assembling it,” Peggy murmured, realizing that despite it all, Potts might have just convinced him.

“So...I’m the first.”

“I knew I had to work the hardest to get you,” she shrugged.

“And so...what does that mean for how SHIELD is going to handle me?”

“For now, we will officially have you as a civilian consultant. We will register your armor as your personal weapon and that you are authorized to use it under SHIELD’s discretion.”

Stark’s gaze narrowed. “So what, I got to call in and ask permission any time I want to go take a fly over somewhere?”

“No,” Peggy quickly assured him. “But if you do end up using it, we can at least claim it’s under our auspices and you are working under SHIELD’s purview. This gives you protection.”

“And it keeps you on the hook for anything I do. Why?”

Peggy could give him any of the myriad of reasons; Nick Fury’s goal of creating this team of heroes, the fact that if they didn’t, the government would seize everything he had on Iron Man, that other companies and governments were clearly already trying to replicate what he had done. In the end, however, it came down to something far more simple than that.

“Because it’s what your father would have wanted. Whatever your feelings about him, I knew him, Tony. He would have wanted you to be the man you are, and he would have wanted you to be free to do it, and he’d have protected you with everything he could have. He’s not here. I am. It’s the only thing I can think of to do.”

It seemed in the end, that was enough.

“All right, I’ll play ball,” he finally replied.

Out of the corner of her eye, Peggy thought she could see Potts sag visibly in relief.

Stark wasn’t finished. “On the condition I get to keep all work and research on the suit and any and all projects relating to it.”

“Done,” she agreed, readily, more relieved she finally got him to say yes. “Anything else?”

“Are you going to be the one who speaks to Ross about all this, because I’m not his errand boy and it would give me great pleasure to tell him to fuck off.”

Peggy didn’t want to talk to General Ross either, but she had to. The situation with Bruce Banner was still pending, and she had a lot to say about that. “I will talk to Ross, but I may have a project for you in all of this.”

“Oh, right out of the gate! I don’t get to have a week or two to send in my notice to Pepper, set up my new office?”

“Do you happen to know who Bruce Banner is?”

He frowned, running the name through his head, clearly something familiar rattling in there. “Should I know him,” he asked, partly in arrogance, partly in curiosity.

“Former physicist and medical researcher out of Culver University.”

“Oh, I heard of him!” The light bulb clicked with him, followed soon by confusion. “Wait, he disappeared years ago, some sort of accident.”

“Something of the sort.” Peggy wasn’t sure how much she should tell him just yet about Banner’s accident. “We think we have a beat on him, but have yet to trace him. I’m hoping you could perhaps help us there.”

“Wouldn’t a private investigator be more what you need?”

“We have lots of those, but we only have one person who both understands the properties of nuclear radiation and has access to Howard Stark’s notes on his many projects, including Project: Rebirth.”

That snagged his attention. “Project: Rebirth? Super soldiers?”

Peggy glanced sideways at Potts, knowing this was classified and realizing that if she was sharing it with Stark, chances would be high Potts would know it too. She did it anyway. “Banner was working on what he thought was a serum to protect people from a nuclear terrorist attack. He wasn’t. Ross had him working…”

“On the supersoldier serum,” Stark cut in, with a harsh bark of a chuckle, throwing up a hand over his head in mild frustration. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Peggy replied, surprised at Stark’s anger. “Banner was told the serum was something to rejuvenate cells destroyed from a radiation fall out.”

“Let me guess, they used gamma rays and not the Vita rays Howard used?”

“Exactly,” Peggy affirmed as Stark rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he turned in frustration to pace briefly.

“I don’t understand,” Potts blinked between them both, now confused by the entire situation. “Super soldiers?”

“Captain America,” Stark replied, turning about in his agitation, throwing a hand to Peggy. “Ask her, she worked on the project.”

“Super soldiers,” Peggy explained to the very confused Potts. “Human beings with advanced metabolic and physical capabilities, basically the peak of human performance. Abraham Erskine had created the formula during the war. I worked on the project. It only had one success - just the one. Since that time it has been something of the holy grail for the military, trying to recreate the perfect weapon, as they saw it. Ross tried, and he enlisted an emanate scientist to help do the research.”

“This Banner you are talking about.” Potts put that piece together. “So...what happened? What was the accident? And why are you trying to find him?”

Peggy glanced at Stark. “Because outside of Tony here, Bruce Banner is one of the most preeminent scientific minds in the world. Also...he might have tried the serum out on himself with some interesting results.”

“He tried it on himself,” yelped Potts, justly horrified.

“What kind of results,” Stark directed, clearly unsurprised someone would try something so patently foolish. Given that this was Stark, who often did that sort of thing, perhaps he just assumed that was normal.

“They developed a serum that would initially absorb the gamma radiation, with the expectation that the super soldier serum would then follow up to repair the damage. The combination of the two, combined with the level of radiation he absorbed, turned him into something...much bigger and angier than a supersoldier, and without any of Banner’s cognitive functions.”

Two blank expressions blinked at her. Peggy only smiled, weakly.

“Right,” Stark drawled, nodding slowly. “So, when you said you had a project for me?”

“Can you find something that will help me track down Banner? And...maybe catch him?”

Stark cocked his head, considering. He did like puzzles and he was intrigued. “Get me the files and I will see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those in the United States, happy Thanksgiving. To everyone reading - wow has this year been a wild ride for all of us, in bad and good ways. But thank you to everyone reading, all over this crazed world. I am grateful and thankful for you for reading, for your many comments, for the ways you make me smile and cheer me up as I've been in lockdown most of the year. You've made it all a bit more bearable, and I am grateful for your kind words and for reading a story I write to entertain myself more than anything.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy receives

The object had been to get Stark and Banner to both sign on the dotted line, to get them to agree to become Avengers. With the agreement of Stark, Peggy was halfway to that goal, enough so that she could now go to Ross and force the agreement she had him make in regards to Banner. He would, of course, have to open up about his botched attempt to capture Banner in Rio de Janeiro, but at least with the information of what happened they could start planning and formulating how to approach him, and once he had agreed, how to help contain him should the worst happen at the most inappropriate time. For once, since she had taken on the mantle of the Avengers on Fury’s behalf, she felt like some sort of progress was finally being made towards completing something.

She had barely made it into her flat, evening setting and her body weary. She’d not really slept at all the night before, having spent the night in Queens managing the Stark Expo situation, only to turn right around and wake Stark up and have what Cassandra Kam liked to term “a come to Jesus conversation.” After that, she’d returned to SHIELD HQ to spend three hours in meetings with New York Chief Braxton and the mayor’s office, and another hour filling Fury in on the details. Exhausted from days of travel, adrenaline, and hard labor aiding Stark with the collider in his basement, she intended to crawl into her bed and stay in it for at least a full 24 hours.

And then, her phone rang.

“Carter,” she yelped, as she set down her bags, half in exasperation, half in abject tiredness.

“I saw you had a busy night,” Coulson opened by way of greeting.

Peggy snorted, kicking off her shoes and slipping to the sofa to massage aching feet. “One might call it that.”

“How is the situation at the Stark Expo working out?”

Peggy harumphed, considering the mess she left behind a few hours ago. “The site is a wreck. If they open again, it won’t be for months. When I left, the FBI finally had shown up and were working with the NYPD, and they were none to happy with me or SHIELD’s presence.”

“They usually aren’t. Was it Vanko, then?”

“Yes,” she sighed, thinking again of the man’s father, the young scientist she knew, and how it all had come to this. “He’s dead. It appears he was working with Justin Hammer, though. Pepper Potts had him arrested and he’s in custody awaiting formal charges as they investigate. With what Romanoff had on him, however, I suspect the case is fairly made.”

“So can I steal her back for my problem then?”

"Pepper Potts asked her to stay at SI for a few weeks to help with the clean up and get her settled. Why?”

“We had an interesting case come up, one you might actually have some expertise in, which is why I called you in first. We had someone break into the containment facility, trying to make off with the 084.”

“You mean the hammer?”

“It’s a pretty strange hammer.”

Peggy snorted. “Considering it came through a wormhole, I would assume so. What is it?”

“What it says on the tin. It doesn’t seem to be anything other than a war hammer. But he wanted it badly enough that he put several of my men in the hospital. Nearly tore the entire containment facility to hell doing it.”

Peggy paused in the act of digging her thumb into a bundle of tightened nerves in the arch of her foot, swearing lightly. The more layers she peeled back on Thaddeus Ross and his research program, the worse it was. “Ross might have had a version he tried after Banner’s, one without the radiation element to it. Does your subject come up on any background checks?”

“None, but he’s got friends in the area. They got him out this morning on a fake ID for a doctor from New York.”

“Friends?” None of that made sense. “Like who?”

“Weirdly enough a couple of scientists who have been doing research out here, a Dr. Jane Foster, an astrophysicist who has been working on Einstein-Rosen Bridges, and a Dr. Erik Selvig of Culver University, a mentor of hers.”

Peggy might still be bone tired and longing for her bed, but she wasn’t that dull witted. “Wait, did you say Erik Selvig?”

“Yeah, professor out there. Do you know him?”

“I met him, briefly.” Peggy’s brain was already working a mile a minute, following various threads of the last few weeks. “He was at a conference with Betty Ross, Thaddeus Ross’ daughter. The two knew each other, they are colleagues at Culver University. He teaches astrophysics there…”

She hit on something Dr. Ross had said.

“So did Bruce Banner,” she murmured, a connection forming. “Selvig made it clear when we met, he has no love for SHIELD or any government agency, and he was friends with Bruce Banner.”

“So, what we have is another one of Ross’ experiments on our hands, maybe someone else who has gone rogue?”

“Possibly...probably.” Peggy didn’t have any of Ross’ notes to go by. “If Ross has been experimenting with other soldiers, he’s hidden the documents and he’s not going to share. Any idea who he is and where he’s from?”

“Wouldn’t say. Judging from his accent, possibly British, but you’d pick that up better than I would.”

Peggy considered, knowing what she did of Banner’s situation. “Ross brought in someone from British Special Forces. Perhaps they are doing something? Maybe it’s all connected. I don’t know. Blonsky isn’t known to be a super soldier, just a regular one who happens to be highly trained, but I suppose it’s possible he’s in a program Ross is cultivating overseas with allies, well away from the prying eyes of the Pentagon and Congress.” How would she go about confirming any of this? “Honestly, any of my contacts there that I could have had look into it would all be dead and gone now.”

Wasn’t that a depressing thought?

“I have men following them. So far, all they’ve managed to do is go to a bar and get drunk, Selvig and this Donald Blake that is.”

“What about the other scientist?”

“She’s harmless...relatively.” Coulson cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Actually, I don’t think she doesn’t like me much. I may have requisitioned all of her data and equipment a few days ago to figure out what this wormhole was doing.”

Peggy paused, frowning. “You what?”

“Foster knows what she’s doing, this is her specialty.”

“Why not just hire her rather than requisition her things?” What was the point in that? Peggy frowned, wondering if this was standard SHIELD protocol and if this was why Selvig so distrusted agencies like SHIELD.

“She doesn’t have the clearance to handle something like this.”

“But you said it yourself, she’s an expert in the field, I’m sure bringing her in as an expert is preferable to taking her things and alienating her, isn’t it? Now she has ties to this apparent super soldier and he’s breaking into facilities.”

Coulson’s long sigh was ambiguous. Peggy couldn’t tell if he was aggravated with her for criticizing his methods or irritated he hadn’t considered that alternative himself. “I had to make a call, that was the one I went with.”

It was on the tip of Peggy’s tongue to say something, but she bit it back. Coulson was Fury’s left hand, Fury trusted him, and he was good at his job. She was well aware that she had the tendency to think she knew everything and to take charge, a habit she’d had since childhood when facing off against the older brother sanctimony of Michael. She wasn’t always right, she supposed, and Coulson clearly made his call for a reason. As her family housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins used to say when she was a girl, there was more than one way to skin a rabbit, and she supposed it got the information Coulson wanted.

“So what is your theory on what is going on?” Frankly, it all sounded mad to Peggy, but she was running on little sleep, she still ached in places she’d rather not think about, and her temper was already horribly frayed.

“Personally, I think that this artifact is likely akin to the Tesseract, an object that found its way to Earth from somewhere else. I think that someone out there has been paying attention, looking for things like this and got wind of the strange activity in New Mexico. They sent Blake, or whatever his name is, to investigate by infiltrating into Jane Foster’s research group. Fairly easy to do if this Blake is one of Ross’ men, then he likely knew of Selig and the connection to Jane, sends him in and then he tries to get in and steal the object. But it didn’t work out for him, so he is leaving empty handed.”

It was an explanation, Peggy supposed, one that accounted for all the variables, but it felt too random. “This supposes that Ross has a vast conspiracy to not only recreate the super soldier serum and then set up a testing facility overseas, but that he also goes about collecting random objects that fall to Earth for unknown reasons. I understand that Thaddeus Ross is a power-hungry, missile-headed idiot who often doesn’t think about the full implications of what his weapons of mass destruction would do, but the man isn’t bright enough to pull off this level of conspiracy. I know, I’ve dealt with him for months, and the head of HYDRA he is not.”

Coulson’s sigh on the other end was quiet, but frustrated. “You are the only expert I got on super soldiers. No one else at SHIELD knows about Erskine’s formula, if they did, I’d be calling them on this.”

Peggy had a feeling this was where it was all leading. “I am still not finished with the Stark situation! I’ve just gotten him to agree to this mad plan, and then with Banner, who is still unaccounted for, mind.”

“And I promise, I will drop everything to get back to hunting Dr. Banner once we’ve contained this, but if we have a super soldier on our hands…”

Peggy may or may not have let out an inelegant whine as she flung herself into the cushions of her couch. 

Coulson, for his part, sounded infinitely patient on the other end of the line. “If this is a super soldier gone rogue, you might be able to reason with him and get him to join the Avengers.”

He had a point, even if Peggy wasn’t precisely a fan of it. “You are right. When do you want me?”

“How soon can you get here?”

Peggy had a feeling that Maria Hill was not going to appreciate another request for a quinjet coming from Peggy alone just a day after the last one. “Let me start making some calls and I’ll have a better idea. Where am I going outside of just New Mexico?”

“Puente Antiguo, it’s a small town, south of Santa Fe, north of Albuquerque. I’ll send coordinates along to you.”

“Sure,” she sighed, already regretting she was agreeing to this. Her couch was so soft and comfortable. “Let me call Kam to let her know what I am doing and then see if I can get the quinjet.”

“I’ll let the team know to expect you. When are you heading out?”

“As soon as I can unpack from my Stark adventure,” she grumbled. “I’ll let you know my ETA when I have a better idea.”

“I wouldn’t ask unless if I didn’t trust your judgement in this, Carter.” There was a note of apology in there under Coulson’s straight-edged facade.

“I know.” She pulled herself upwards, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Give me two hours to shower and pack and make arrangements. I’ll know more about it all then.

“I’ll have my channels open,” he replied. Peggy clicked off the line, staring at her phone before calling Cassandra who picked up her own phone with something of a snap.

“This is Kam.”

“Cassandra,” Peggy put as much apology as she could into the woman’s name. It set the younger agent on alert.

“What has Stark done now?”

“Nothing, thus far,” Peggy assured her quickly. “No, Coulson has an issue in New Mexico and has asked for my assistance. I promised I would head out there and give what help I could. Do you think you can handle the clean up from the Stark Expo situation well enough on your own?”

Peggy had all the confidence in the world in the younger agent. She had worked requisitions for the New York office for years under Maria Hill’s tutelage, she could manage this situation. Even still, Cassandra clearly didn’t necessarily feel that way. “I’ve never handled anything as big as this before, Peggy. I mean, the flooding in an apartment, black mold, a busted AC, sure, but we are talking about a huge terrorist situation that will be months cleaning up.”

“And a few days managing it is outside of your purview?”

Cassandra paused, thoughtful. “I suppose I could. David will be less than thrilled with my hours, though.”

David, as Peggy recalled, was Cassandra’s significant other. “Tell him I apologize. I hopefully will not be more than a day or two in New Mexico, then I’ll be back to help out.”

“And what about the Banner situation.”

Peggy had not yet told the other woman about the development on that score. “I’ve been discussing with Stark and I think I’m going to let him handle that score.”

“Tony Stark?”

Cassandra said it as if there were any other Stark they were dealing with. “Yes, he’s agreed to work with us, and I’ve asked him on point with this. After all, they are both genius scientists, both have issues with entities in authority…”

“One has an ego the size of the planet, the other just turns into something the size of the planet.”

“Nothing quite that dramatic,” Peggy chastised her, but smiled anyway. “The point is that I’ve already made the case for the Avengers to Stark. He was by far my hardest sell. If I can get him to work with Banner and convince him to come on board, that is far better than I, the random person in an authority position at an intelligence organization. Perhaps he can help Banner see we are all working in common accord.”

Cassandra, understandably, did not sound convinced. “You do know that on top of Banner turning into a raging monster, he was turned that way by an organization committed to world peace, right?”

“Thaddeus Ross is committed to winning wars, not maintaining peace, and if he tells you otherwise, he’s lying. That is precisely what happened to Bruce Banner, and it’s unfortunate, but in this he has a means by which he can help save people, to do something good. That’s the part of him I’m hoping to appeal to.”

“I’m sure that’s fine and well for Dr. Bruce Banner, Ph.D., M.D., whatever other alphabet soup is behind his name, but what about the thing he turns into. I’ve seen some of the footage and he doesn’t look like he is listening, really.”

She wasn’t wrong. “Let’s just hope we can appeal to the rational side and figure out how to direct the not-as-rational side.”

Cassandra on the other end sighed. “I think that living through a global depression and fighting a war has made you too much of an optimist, you know.”

“Perhaps,” Peggy conceded, thinking of unpacking and repacking again and wanting nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep for a thousand years. “I wish I hadn’t said yes.”

“Why did you?”

With effort, Peggy threw herself up off the couch to stumble down the hallway. “Coulson thinks he might have another one of Ross’s pet projects, another super soldier.”

“Another one? I thought the formula died with Erskine?”

“Well, apparently someone has figured out something, and now I’m going there to consult to see if that is what we have on our hands. Do you think you could do me a favor while I pack? Run the name of Donald Blake, M.D. for me. Coulson says he has a New York address. Give me what you got on him and I can look it over on the flight.”

She paused as she turned a circle in her room, the phone up to her ear, considering. “Maybe also get me files on Erik Selvig and Jane Foster. He’s an astrophysicist from Culver University, same place as Banner. I don’t know anything about her, except she’s an astrophysicist too.”

“Sure,” Cassandra paused long enough to write that down. “And I’ll work with Braxton on the expo fall out. Anything you want me doing with Stark?”

“No, best let me handle him personally. He trusts me, but I don’t think that trust extends to SHIELD yet.”

“When everything is settled, you need to give me all the scoop on the fabulous life of Anthony Stark.”

Peggy chuckled at Cassandra’s glee at the thought. “I don’t think there is much to tell, but he is going to need a hell of an interior decorator when all of this is said and done.”

“You really are the worst gossip girl ever, you know.”

“I wouldn’t have a career in espionage if I was the best gossip.” Peggy chuckled, calling for the AI to turn the lights on in her room. “I’ll let you get to that, I have to swap out for fresh clothes and call to requisition a flight out to New Mexico.”

“I’ll get you what I can get,” Cassandra clicked off, leaving Peggy to contemplate her suitcase, still not unpacked from her jaunt to Los Angeles. During the war, she had many quick turn arounds, often with only a few hours of rest before she had to be back up and off to another assignment somewhere else. Now, she was complaining after at least one night’s rest in her own bed. She was getting soft, she decided, grumpily picking it up to toss on her soft mattress and unzipping it to pull out soiled clothes and replace them for fresh ones. Where was the tough, fierce Agent Carter who could keep up with Captain America and his Howling Commandos?

She glowered at the bed in mild disgust, wondering if somehow she left that Peggy Carter somewhere in the 1940’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline in Thor is a bit...well, clunky. So, is you are paying close attention to it in relation to everything, I may have added a day. This is a crazy week for Peggy, yo!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy reconnects with Coulson and Barton.

It was a mark of how much Peggy liked Coulson that she made this trip.

“We should be landing in fifteen, Director.” Jake assured her from his seat in the pilot’s chair. Peggy had settled beside him, staring at the darkness below. She had gotten the pilot on her detail again, which made Peggy suspect it perhaps was on purpose. A former US Marine pilot, he had flown her out to Los Angeles now several times, and she had built something of a bond with him.

“I feel I have to apologize for dragging you out again for this.” Peggy had already had the pointed conversation with Hill, who grumbled about the resources but seemed willing to bend the rules for both Peggy and Coulson.

“No worries, ma’am. It’s my job.” He flipped switches and eyed the computer running the navigation. “Honestly, it’s nice getting out to the different other headquarters when we are out and about. Los Angeles is a good one.”

“It is,” she agreed, hit with a wave of fond reminiscence. “I remember when the Los Angeles branch was opened.”

“That’s right, you were there for that.” He had the same awe in his voice that everyone seemed to get when they recalled just who Peggy was and when she came from. “It had to be so very different then.”

“It was.” Far from the sprawling complex wedged between office buildings and strip malls in the area known as Koreatown in Los Angeles, it had been a hidden block of busy offices hidden in what had appeared to be a hole in the wall talent agency in Hollywood. “It was a much smaller operation than what is there now. It started as a branch of the SSR because the military industrial complex was growing so much out there. Also, because Howard Stark had just relocated and was setting up his main operations out there.”

“I’m sure his stuff meant the SSR was busy!”

“Sometimes, yes.” Which was part of why Howard had thought SHIELD would be a brilliant idea, it was less government interference in his work. She thought of Tony and his suit and realized that Howard had been more prophetic than he realized. “Surprisingly, he wasn’t as large of a problem child after we opened that office. Honestly, I think he learned his lesson after his inventions were stolen.”

“I think it’s crazy you knew him. Is his son anything like him?”

“Yes,” she said, quickly and concisely. “And no...Tony is his own person, that is for certain. But he does remind me of his father in certain ways, yes.”

Hopefully, she mused privately, he would make better choices than his father did.

They landed in the pre-dawn light, the eastern sky lightening to a thin sliver of gray. The quinjet landed onto a patch of sandy soil outside of a construction of what looked like glowing tubes, ribs with plastic stretched across them, dim silhouettes moving, ghost-like, inside. In the bright blaze of the portable lights around the perimeter, Peggy could make out a small contingency of agents, primary among them Coulson, whose pleasant smile was nigh cheerful as he met her at the gangplank.

“Good to see you again, Director.”

“You as well,” she grinned, taking his hand. “What do you have on your possible super soldier?”

“Not much more than what I shared with you. He got out of our holding cell and went straight to a local dive bar with Selvig, who apparently can't hold his liquor quite the same way our subject can.”

“Not surprising,” Peggy followed Coulson and the other agents up a set of metal stairs that led into the plastic covered scaffolding forming the complex. “The serum increases the metabolic rate of those who took it, which meant they burnt through calories four times as fast. Alcohol has no effect on them because of it.”

“Well, he conveniently didn’t tell Selvig that, because he got smashed and had to be carried home over Blake’s shoulder.” Coulson wryly nodded down one direction of the circular maze, their feet clanging on the metal as he led the way. “Anyway, it was a low key day for all around. Selvig, I guess, was nursing his hangover, and Blake was seen having discussions with Foster. He’s made no move to leave or to meet with anyone else.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much more for you on this.” Peggy had reviewed the file Cassandra had sent her during her flight. “There is a Donald Blake connected to Jane Foster. It seems he is a surgeon from New York whom she dated, briefly, a year or so ago. I am guessing nothing came of it, because he is still in New York working in a private surgery.”

“I saw those too, and he doesn’t even look like our guy.” Coulson waived to a room that looked like a command center straight out of Agent Burk’s lab, with several stations and monitors set up. “Bring up our suspect, would you?”

A few keystrokes in and the image of a tall, muscular blonde-haired man appeared. Coulson frowned at it in mild consternation. “This is our guy. As you will see, nothing like Donald Blake, MD, of New York.”

That much was true. The Manhattan surgeon was a nice-looking, if unremarkable, person who resembled this stranger not at all. Peggy highly doubted you would miss this man walking down the street. Tall, muscular, and fit, he had the sort of scruffy, golden good looks so many women found attractive these days. Certainly, he looked like the peak of human perfection, and she had a feeling that there would be several different people she knew - namely Cassandra, Juan, and Sharon - who might all second that opinion.

“Well, he certainly looks like someone who has had the serum, not going to deny that.” Peggy ignored Coulson’s dry snort. “How did he handle the security?”

A voice from outside, down the hallway, answered that question for her. “Manhandled them!”

Peggy turned to see Clint Barton rounding the corner, shrugging as he nodded to another screen with security footage of the stranger’s encounter with other SHIELD agents. “He’s 6’5 and 220 if I am laying odds on it, and if the guys are to be believed, punches like a jackhammer with a chin like a concrete wall. He took on the biggest guy we got as if it was nothing, and he once played defensive line in a top ten college football program.”

Peggy surmised this meant that this “Blake” was formidable indeed. “What was your beat on him?”

“Honestly,” Barton shrugged, considering for a long moment. “I don’t think the guy is special ops for anyone. He doesn’t have the mindset. He wasn’t treating this as a mission, he was here for one objective and one objective only - that hammer. Whatever it is, wherever it came from, it meant something to him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he wasn’t being secret about it.” Barton nodded to the video again. “He ran in here expecting to be able to take it. He only stopped when he found he couldn’t. The minute that happened, he complied with us completely.”

“We had him in interrogation for over an hour before Selvig showed up,” Coulson confirmed. “He wouldn’t budge. Wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t give us a name, wouldn’t speak. Something about that hammer meant something to him and the fact he didn’t get it shut him down.”

That was...odd.

“What is this hammer that you have built this entire complex around, anyway?”

Coulson glanced at Barton, who nodded, then jerked his head out of the room. “Come on, see what all the fuss is about.”

After several descriptions by Coulson and all of this fuss, when it was all said and done, it was just...well, a hammer. Admittedly, it was rather large, a giant square of silverish metal, ornately decorated and stuck onto a handle darkened with a patina of age and use, but still lovely with its graceful, spiral turned around it. It was indeed lovely, a piece she might have seen in a museum growing up had any artifact like that had made its way 1000 years looking as shiny and beautiful as this did. That said, it was still just a hammer. Why it appeared out of nowhere, and why it was grounded into the crater it sat in, remained a mystery.

“We’ve had our antiquities experts take a look at it and they have nothing,” Coulson explained as they wandered out to the makeshift courtyard to look at it. “The markings are all vaguely Northern European, tied to quite a few cultures there.”

Peggy thought of the Tesseract and shivered. “And no one has been able to pry this out of the ground?”

“Not even a crane has been able to lift it,” Barton replied, amused, as he tapped it lightly with the tip of one steel-toed boot. “We had bets laid out on that one.”

“Geological scans underneath say that the only thing there is normal rock and soil, all native to this area. Still, we can’t even get the stuff just under the hammer to budge. It’s like it has a weird, gravitational field around it.” Coulson nodded to a window overlooking the courtyard. “The science guys at least tell me that’s what is going on.”

Walking around it, Peggy pursed her lips, her steps soft on the powdery soil as she rounded the item. “And you said he tried to come in here and lift it. He didn’t explain why?”

‘Nope,” Barton replied, arms crossed over a dark, black utility jacket. “And he couldn’t lift it either. If he’s one of your super soldiers, that means even an enhanced human can’t make it happen, so...what the hell sort of object is it?”

Peggy didn’t know. Honestly, she understood little about the kind of objects like this hammer. A long time ago, in her earliest days as an agent, she’d been on the detail of a young archaeologist in the employ of HYDRA. He had been the one to find the evidence of the Tesseract and had hoped he would find other such objects like it, gifts of the gods that had fallen to Earth over the millennia of existence. Was this such a so-called gift, then, a war hammer with strange properties that Thaddeus Ross now wanted in an effort to create his own superior fighting force, just as Johann Schmidt had tried to do?

“You said the subject is still with Selvig and Foster?”

“Last I saw,” Coulson admitted. “I have a couple of guys on them in downtown Puente Antiguo and they said they’ve behaved all day. We’ve combed through all of Foster’s data, outside of some fairly interesting findings on Einstein-Rosen bridges, we’ve got nothing.”

Peggy had reviewed Coulson's teams files on her flight along with what they had on this mysterious stranger. Neither Selvig nor Foster seemed the type to get mixed up in all of this. Selvig had studied at Cambridge as a student where he had met and began working with Jane Foster’s father, also an astrophysicist. The pair had kept in touch and eventually worked together closely at Culver University where Foster had died while his daughter was still completing her own studies. She had followed in her father’s footsteps, however, and had maintained a close relationship with Selvig ever since. Unlike her father and Selvig, Foster had eschewed the hallowed halls of academia to chase after theoretical science, while Selvig had continued a respected career in lecturing, teaching and publishing. There was nothing either of them did or said, at least in public, that hinted at any ties to or against Thaddeus Ross save Selvig’s friendship with Bruce Banner and Betty Ross.

“Have you spoken to Foster about returning her research?”

“Not yet,” Coulson admitted, with a hint of guilt, earning a snort from Barton beside him. “We’d hoped to figure out who her companion was before approaching them both.”

Peggy considered. “Do you think he will be willing to have another conversation if we approach him in a less aggressive posture? Perhaps assure him that we don’t want to use him?”

“And how did that work with Stark and Banner,” Barton shot back, bemused and doubtful.

He had a point. “Better with Stark than you would have thought. Banner, we’ve yet to find. I have Stark and Kam on that detail.”

“Stark on tracking Banner?” Coulson blinked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Yes,” she said, perhaps a touch defensively. “Why not? He is also a scientist with more than his fair share of distrust for the government establishment and a healthy disregard for procedure and protocol in the search for scientific excellence. I think if there is anyone who understands Banner and can get through to him, it is Stark.”

That softened Coulson’s stance considerably. “Fair, you do have a point. I'm just saying it’s an unorthodox choice. Has Stark agreed to work for SHIELD.”

“No, but he has agreed to work alongside SHIELD and that is a starting point.”

“Not a call I would have made,” Coulson admitted, without judgement. “You trust Stark that much?”

“Yes,” Peggy said without question, casting a mildly amused look to Barton. “However, he may not trust us much after the entire Romanoff incident.”

Barton’s grin was broad and unapologetic. “Heard he fired her on the spot.”

“Which she duly ignored,” Peggy chuckled. “She’ll be staying for another few weeks to help Potts in the transition and to maintain her cover before she leaves her assignment.”

“She’s going to be sad leaving her apartment with a view,” Coulson quipped.

“She’s going to be more sad to not have the onsight ice cream shop that Stark has,” Barton replied.

Peggy accepted their assessment. In truth, she knew so little about Romanoff, it caught her as somewhat surprising she both liked her apartment or ice cream. “Can I review the video of this man’s break in. Perhaps we can find something in there that might give us some clue as to who he is and what he was up to when he broke in.”

“Yeah, I’ll see if I can get Sitwell to play it on the big screen, perhaps break it down a bit more.”

“And coffee, if you have it,” Peggy yawned, rather loudly and decidedly unladylike. “I’ve been...up forever?”

“We can get you some of both. We even have good coffee, this time,” Coulson assured her, cheerfully, leading the way back inside.

“Honestly, I would take black paint thinner in a cup if it kept my eyes awake.”

“We could get you that too, but I don’t think it would taste as good.”

Peggy ignored his teasing. “I like you, Coulson, a lot. That is why I’m here for you. Be grateful!”

“I am very grateful you are here, Director, have no doubt about that.”

One cup of frankly delicious coffee and several minutes of fiddling with video equipment later, they gathered to study the footage. It became quickly clear that Barton wasn't lying about the stranger tearing his way through SHIELD security as if they were little more than wooden soldiers. Whoever this man was, he would have certainly given Steve a run for his money.

“He looks like he packs a wallop,” Barton eyed the video, lounging lazily in one of the office chairs surrounding the monitor. Jasper Sitwell, the agent working as Coulson’s assistant on this mission, grimaced, nodding his bald head as he paused the security images.

“His fingerprints turned up nothing and his face didn’t come up on any known databases. He might as well be a ghost for all that he appears in the record.”

“Maybe that is what he is,” Coulson glanced pointedly at Barton, some knowing expression passing between them. Peggy frowned, watching Barton still, his expression inscrutable for long moments.

“I don’t think so,” he finally said, without clarifying, something troubled lying there.

“But maybe.”

“I doubt it.” Barton glanced at the screen, a hint of doubt, perhaps a flicker of uncertainty, coming and going in the blink of an eye.

“We could ask…”

“Whom,” Peggy finally blurted, somewhat nettled to be outside of the cryptic conversation. 

“Romanoff,” Coulson answered, despite the brief frown from Barton. “It could be something she knows about.

Peggy could see why Barton was hesitant. “In my admittedly scant dealings with the organization you are referring to, they didn’t tend to recruit men. Agent Romanoff seems to indicate that this hadn’t changed in her experience. A man like that would be too obvious for the sort of work the Red Room did.” She felt vaguely ill just thinking of the facility in Russia, remembering the handcuffs to the bed and the little, innocent girl who stabbed Dugan before he could blink.

“The Red Room wasn’t the only Soviet era program that survived the fall of communism,” Coulson clarified. “Several groups did, and given the recent troubles they’ve been having, particularly in areas like Chechnya…”

“Honestly, you think he’s a terrorist?” Barton dubiously threw a hand towards the video. “If he is, he’s doing a poor job at it. Besides, he wants the space hammer, which we don’t even understand.”

“Which terror groups in the past would have salivated over,” Peggy responded, quietly. “Speaking from personal experience.”

It was Sitwell who put the obvious question into the room. “If this Donald Blake or whoever he is happens to be working with the scientists, then they clearly are the ones who want it. Why? What’s it to them?”

“I don’t know,” Coulson grumbled in mild frustration. “Foster is clean as a whistle. Selvig is the one who has the connection to Banner and thus to Ross.”

“Do we know if the US military is looking into this yet?” Peggy felt she had to ask the obvious.

“Not that I know of, but in fairness, we did jump on this one. They’ve not tried to interfere, either.”

Peggy’s mind tried to wrap itself around their situation. “So, we have a man who may, or may not, be a super soldier, whose ties to the US military are tenuous at best, who has no identity, past, or explanation, but does have a relationship to research scientists who are connected to a known super soldier experiment, and he wants a hammer that came through a wormhole that no one understands or can explain.”

Coulson, Sitwell, and Barton all blinked at her, then each other, before Coulson finally nodded. “Well, pretty much.”

“Then why are we sitting here?” She snapped her notebook closed in front of her. “Let’s go find this Donald Blake and have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, I've added a day in this timeline.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy meets the God of Thunder.

Peggy had spent little time in the American Desert Southwest. She’d been to Alamogordo, once, with Philips and Howard, in the early years of the war. To her England-bred eyes, New Mexico might as well have been as barren as the moon. The arid flats, stretching out as far as the eye could see, led to the distant shape of mountains on the far horizon, a field of nothing but golden, sandy soil and rocks, with only the hardiest and scrubbiest of brush clinging to life. That said, despite the emptiness of the landscape, the temperatures were mild, even comfortable. The elevation was high enough up that it wasn’t oppressively hot, and this led to the sprinkling of settlements that dotted the landscape, including the tiny town of Puente Antiguo.

“It’s not much more than a couple of dusty cross streets where a town happened to spring up.” Coulson of course was cool and collected with his sunglasses and suit, even first thing in the morning. “All of this is cattle ranch country. The railroad built up here to sell cattle in markets, and the town grew up around that. But since the railroad left in the 60s, it’s been drying up, kept alive by the fact that the US military has several test sites around here. Now at days it’s mostly a sleepy, small town, part bedroom community for Santa Fe and Albuquerque, part local gathering place for the ranchers. They do have a lovely B&B, though, in the downtown area.”

Peggy blinked over at him from her position in the passenger’s seat. “Did you learn this all from a local travel guide?”

“Wikipedia, actually, but I did look at their Chamber of Commerce site, yes.” Coulson’s cheeks flushed a slight pink. “I like history!”

“I noticed,” she teased, lightly. She found it rather endearing, this rather straight-laced, stiff agent in his suit was secretly a walking encyclopedia. “I think my bigger question is why?”

“Mostly to figure out why a magic hammer from outer space would land outside of this town.”

“And?”

“No particular reason. The name of the town itself means ‘ancient bridge’, but whether that is due to ancient wormhole activity or just a happy coincidence, we don’t know. The only above ground water source around here that would have a bridge is a creek that is dry most of the year and I could hop across it without much effort.”

“Maybe it was because it was a crossroads town,” Peggy offered.

Coulson held up a hand, expression behind his sunglasses sharp as he appeared to be listening to his ever present earpiece. He swore, softly, craning his head to see out the window. “That was base, they said another one of those anomalies popped up north of town again. I’ll drop you off at Foster’s place, then go meet with the team to check it out. Think you can handle it by yourself?”

“Hopefully,” she said with more confidence than she felt. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure. From what she understood, Foster hadn’t taken kindly to SHIELD’s interference in her work, and Selvig she knew already distrusted them. As for this Donald Blake, or whatever his name actually was, if he had been one of Ross’s experiments he may take no more kindly to another agency stepping in than Selvig or Foster would. Still, she could at least make a pitch and see if any of them would take it.

The town was indeed a dusty, small village. Had it been in England, it would have been seen as “quaint,” but in New Mexico it looked like something out of the ridiculous Western films Howard was so fond of. Certainly, the gas station and the grocery were newer, and modern cars lined the street rather than horses, but Peggy wouldn’t have been terribly shocked had she seen a lovely roan tied up between the large SUV and the practical pick-up truck. Coulson made his way through the main drag of the town, a straight road that led north and south, pulling up to an odd looking building that wouldn’t have been out of place on the Stark property in Malibu, were it better maintained and not empty. Inside the all-glass front she could see shadowy figures moving inside.

“Call me if you need assistance,” Coulson murmured, nodding back the opposite direction. “I’ll see what’s going on and will be back as soon as I can.”

“Got it,” Peggy affirmed, reaching to the small of her back where she had holstered her weapon in her pant suit. Not as nice as her thigh holster, but the waistband one was a favorite of the modern woman and Sharon had gifted her this one. Her service weapon sat tucked there, just in case. She doubted she would need it, but one could never tell. Judging from Banner’s temperament post serum, if this Donald Blake had something akin to it, his temper may be just as short. Erskine had always said the serum would bring out the best and the worst in people. In Schmidt, it had brought out his megalomania even more. In Steve, it was his sense of duty and honor. Who knew what it did to this stranger?

Coulson dropped her off at the corner, letting her cross the street to the wide, open lot before turning around to return up north of town. Peggy watched him go, briefly, before stepping across the broken and sandy asphalt. The fading signs all indicated it had at one time been a car dealership, perhaps in the days when this had been a more bustling town, before the railroad had pulled up stakes and left it as a backwater. Just inside she could see two figures sitting at a table in what she guessed was what passed for a kitchen in the facility. She knocked on the glass, a tight, peremptory rap with her knuckles, earning the attention of a dark haired young woman, who peered up at Peggy from the table through dark-framed glasses. The other person was Selvig, who blinked in bleary confusion at her.

It was the girl who came to the door, making her way over lazily, opening the door just a fraction. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not interested.”

Peggy blinked, reaching for her pocket. “I’m not selling anything.”

That didn’t seem to phase the dubious looking girl. “Well, Erik’s an atheist, Jane’s agnostic, and I’m not opposed to the idea of deities in general, but feel our need to place that sort of power in the hands of fallible, divine beings is a sign of humanity's need to explain things beyond our control so that we don’t have to deal with the crushing knowledge that some things happen because of existential situations and sometimes don't have a rhyme or reason. But, you know, I will take a tract, if you want, I’m not totally rude.”

Peggy stilled, briefly, to stare at the girl’s unruffled expression, unsure how to respond to any of that. Instead, she simply pulled out her badge to flash it. “I’m not selling any religion. May I come in?”

The girl read the badge, wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, opening the glass door fully. She let Peggy step in before yelling. “Jane, the Feds are here again to take more of your stuff!”

“Not exactly,” Peggy murmured, stepping past her and inside, where the remains of charts, monitors, and dangling wires littered the space. Peggy guessed that was what Coulson had left behind when his team raided the area.

Selvig, hunched over a cup of what she surmised was coffee at the table. He looked rough and worse for wear, clearly not feeling well. He frowned at her, comprehension starting to slowly surface. “I know you from somewhere.”

“The conference in New York, at Columbia, a few weeks ago.” Peggy stuck out a hand to him. He stared at it, briefly, but didn’t take it. “Director Peggy Carter with SHIELD.”

“What, here to take what is left?” He snorted, then winced, reaching up to hold his clearly aching head. “I mean, you took everything else. I knew you were up to something when you were meeting with Betty.”

“I wasn’t up to anything with you, Dr. Selvig, nor did I order this.” She waved a hand around the space, ignoring the disbelief from the other two. “I just came into town this morning at Agent Coulson’s request. I’ve suggest to him that he return Dr. Foster’s equipment.”

“Suggested, but not ordered?” A petite, brown haired woman rounded a corner from the back, marching out with fire in her dark eyes. Jane Foster was lovely, even in the casual uniform of jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel overshirt. Much like Betty Ross, she was not the type Peggy would have taken for a scientist. She briefly thought of poor Whitney Frost. She had clearly been a woman before her time. She would have thrived in this world where she wouldn’t have been dismissed because of her gender or her looks.

“No, not ordered,” Peggy confirmed, meeting the other woman’s anger directly. “They are still investigating the weather anomalies outside of town, ones I think you understand better than they do.”

The woman’s jaw jutted mutinously for a moment. “Well, at least someone there admits it. If you are a director, why not order it?”

“I don’t control Agent Coulson or his work.”

Foster rolled her eyes, tossing her hair as she flipped on her heel towards the kitchenette, Selvig and the girl watching with avid interest. “I suppose I should do the polite thing and offer you coffee.”

“I’m fine, though a spot of tea won’t be misplaced.”

That made Foster pause, glancing begrudgingly over her shoulder. “You sounded disturbingly like my mother just now.”

“Her mom’s British,” the girl at the table offered, not looking up from some device she was fiddling with. “She thinks it’s funny I find her accent so cute.”

Foster plugged in an electric tea kettle, eyeing the girl over her shoulder in dry amusement. “She thinks it’s funny that you comment on how cute it is every time she calls me. Like...literally every time she calls.”

“Because it is cute!”

“Moving on,” Foster muttered, turning the kettle on. “So, when is SHIELD giving me back my equipment and data?”

“As soon as I can get them to do so, but I’m not here to discuss that.”

Foster paused in pulling out a tin of tea packets to frown at Peggy. “Then why are you here?”

“The hammer,” Peggy replied, simply.

That caught all of their attention.

“What hammer?” Foster tried to temporize, dissembling badly as she busied herself with sorting through packets of foil-wrapped tea bags.

“The one SHIELD currently has contained outside of town. Also, I'm here about the man who tried to retrieve it the other day, Mr. Blake.”

That got Foster's attention. She set down the tin of tea packets, angry once again, hands on her hips as she turned to confront Peggy. “Look, he’s just a friend of mine from college, he was in town visiting. He happens to think that sort of stuff is cool and he had a bit too much to drink and thought he could break in. He...he thinks because he’s watched _Mission Impossible_ a few too many times he can be Tom Cruise!”

Peggy guessed Foster was referring to yet another piece of media she was unfamiliar with. “For a doctor from New York he has some very unique skills when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.”

That deflated the scientist somewhat. “He’s...he does mixed martial arts for fun.”

“He’s a beast in the Octagon,” the girl supplied, cheerfully, from the table. Foster glared at her, earning an eye roll and sigh from the girl for her troubles.

“How did he even know the hammer was even out there,” Peggy queeried, ignoring the interplay between the two.

There, Foster regained her footing, turning back to her tea preparation. “We were having breakfast at the cafe. One of the ranchers came in talking about it and he wanted to check it out. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but you know, Donald, when he gets an idea in his head, there’s no stopping him. He’s kind of crazy like that.”

“Crazy like what?”

Foster jumped and spun at the counter, turning to stare at the very object of their conversation rounding a corner, pulling on a flannel, apparently having freshened up somewhere. He was tall, taller than Steve had grown even, and looked every inch the type of super soldier that would have made Chester Philips weep if he could have cloned him many times over. Peggy blinked at him as he good naturedly smiled at her in greeting. “Hello!”

“Hello,” Peggy returned, clearing her throat as her voice cracked, somewhat, glancing at Foster’s flustered expression. 

At the table, the wise-cracking girl jumped into the fray. “Donald! Don...Don, we were just talking about, you know, your skills fighting for fun and...and how you like alien shit...and...how much fun it is to break into secret, government facilities!”

Having missed much of the previous conversation, the poor man merely frowned at the girl, blonde eyebrows knitting in bewildered confusion. “Uhh...I’m sorry?”

The girl jerked her dark head to Peggy in a gesture that she was guessing was supposed to be unobtrusive, but was anything but. “You know, how you just love breaking the law to go find government secrets!”

Still puzzled, he glanced over at Peggy, then back at the girl. “I’m sorry, Darcy, if this is a test…”

Foster groaned in mild frustration, returning to Peggy’s much neglected tea. “It’s not a test, Darcy just thinks she’s more sly than she is.”

“I’m plenty sly when the other person catches on,” the girl, apparently Darcy, shot Peggy a conspiratorial look. “You should see how many guys I managed to sneak past the RA in my dorm over the years.”

“Anyway,” Foster cut her off, passing Peggy a thick, purple mug with the name of Culver University printed in red and a crest of some sort on the other side. “This is Director Carter from SHIELD, and she was here to discuss...I guess, your little break in. I was trying to tell her that this sort of thing is something you do, you know...it was a joke, you were drunk, you know…”

The man’s frown shifted from confusion to something else, regarding Foster’s nervous pointedness with something akin to sadness. “You know it wasn’t that, Jane.”

His statement caught her by surprise. “But...I mean…”

The man turned back to Peggy, holding out a large, calloused hand, friendly and apologetic. “My lady, my name is not...Donald, or Blake, or any of those things. I am Thor Odinsson of Asgard.” He paused, the sadness deepening to pained regret. “Or I was until several days ago. But now, I’m here on Earth, a new man, a mortal, trying to find my purpose in this life.”

Whatever Peggy had expected to hear, none of it was that. The room had gone silent. Selvig and Darcy at the table both stared mutely at the stranger. Foster’s mouth hung open, shocking her nervous fluttering to stillness. Even Peggy, who had been preparing to sip from what smelled like a cup of Earl Gray, paused, as she processed just what it was that he had said. 

In the end, Peggy said the only thing that really came foremost in her mind. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Selvig jumped up with a nervous laugh and a grimace. “What he meant to say was that…”

But the man - Thor - held up his large hand to the other, pausing him in mid stride around the table. “Friend Selvig, I know what I am saying. I can’t live in lies in deception. I lived in those long enough, deceiving myself that I was worthy to be my father’s heir, to rule Asgard and the Nine Realms, to make a good and proper king. I only now see what he was trying to teach me about my own folly, my own selfishness, my own arrogance. Unfortunately, I was too late in that. But I understand it now, and I won’t begin my new life on a lie. Lady Carter, I broke into your fortress with the hope of regaining Mjølnir, the powerful hammer, forged from the heart of a dying star. It has been my weapon for many long years, but in my disgrace, my father enchanted it, and I am no longer worthy to wield it. The god I was, the mighty Thor who had helped bring peace through innumerable battles across the Nine Realms, is no more. I’m just a regular, mortal man, just like all of you!”

His broad, endearing smile took them all in, including Peggy, who still sat with her tea halfway to her red-painted lips, her brain shorting somewhat as she tried to understand what he was telling her. She understood the part where he believed he was a god, a king, and now was penitent about something, and that the hammer was supposedly magical. The rest…”

“Are you saying,” she finally managed, setting aside the untasted tea. “That you are the Norse god of thunder?”

The man’s wide, blue eyes shifted towards the ceiling as he seemed to consider, shaking his head in an ambiguous gesture. “I mean...yes, more or less, I suppose. Asgardians are not of Earth, but I know that mortals consider us to be gods, so it is true in a certain sense.”

Peggy cut her eyes to Selvig, the only one in the room she knew to be raised in any Scandanavian culture. He looked slightly green around the gills, but his haggard expression was one of wary confirmation, shrugging his shoulders quietly as if to say he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have any better explanation. So, the astrophysicist seemed to buy into it, at least somewhat, or at the very least humored the man and his delusions. Peggy strongly suspected it was the latter. Whatever it was, this...Thor certainly seemed to believe it. Was he an alien from another planet, as he claimed? Scott Lang had told her there were those. But he could just as easily be just a super soldier, one given the same serum that Banner had taken. The side effect here could be that instead of his rage mutating his physical form, that the serum had broken his mind to the point he had to create a story to explain why it was he had changed so drastically. 

“Mister….Odinsson,” Peggy began, carefully, unsure of how to begin. “I...that is, I represent SHIELD, the organization that is currently holding your hammer. We came to investigate because...well, your particular talents, they intrigued us.”

Whether this concerned him or not, he merely shrugged, wandering to the cabinets where Foster stood to grab a clean mug, pouring coffee from the pot that had been brewed. “My warring days are done, I’m afraid, Lady Carter. I’ve spent lifetimes thrilling to the sound of battle, longing to defeat my foes with might and will, and I never once really considered what it would be like to merely live as a man of peace. Maybe it’s time I learned.”

Peggy frowned, as much to be titled “lady” - she was just British enough to cringe at a title that was neither her’s nor had she earned - as she was at his stated reluctance. “Why were you at the facility, then?”

He drank heartily from the coffee, leaning against the counter. “To go home, naturally. Mjølnir has enchantments on it, cast by the All-Father, and those can restore me to my natural form.”

Again, Peggy looked to Selvig, who looked as confused on the matter as she did. Darcy was the only one to speak, low and appreciative. “If you look like this as a normal person, I’d pay so much money to see you in your natural form. Not that I have much, being an unpaid intern.” She gave Foster a pointedly, dirty look.

Foster seemed to come back to herself, shaking her head and glaring at the girl. “Be glad you are getting your internship credits, Miss Poli Sci major. And no one is paying to see anyone in their natural form.” Her high cheekbones flushed brightly as she avoided Odinsson’s eye. “Look, Director Carter, whatever the situation with Thor is, I was here as a research scientist. I have a grant to be here, and my equipment, my research, all my data, everything was seized by your Agent...what was his name?”

“Coulson,” both Peggy and Selvig supplied, the latter with a hint of mild disgust.

“Yes, Coulson. He didn’t even have a warrant, he just swooped in here with all of his suits and stuffed everything in vans and said it was for the best.”

Peggy had a feeling it was going to come down to this. “I understand your frustration, Dr. Foster. SHIELD works outside of the parameters of the United States Federal Government. It isn’t bound by the same regulations that a federal officer would be.”

It was the girl, Darcy, who spoke up then, leaning back lazily in her chair. “Yeah, but SHIELD is still operating on US soil, and Jane is a US citizen, and she has certain rights according to our Constitution and the laws of the State of New Mexico, all of which say that unlawful search and seizure is not cool. And SHIELD may have a UN charter, but they have to respect a citizen’s rights in their own country.”

Everyone turned to stare at the girl, including Foster, as she smiled, benignly, at her employer. “What? What do you think we study in political science? We may not be chasing wormholes in the sky, but poli sci majors aren’t idiots. This is the shit I’ve been studying. Organizations like SHIELD can’t just come in and take people’s stuff without seeking permission through due process in the US courts, just like federal officers, which is why you guys couldn’t just roll into Malibu and take Tony Stark’s suit, else you would have done it already just to keep the US government from having it. Because we all can agree it would be a bad idea for them to just go and take one of those, right?”

Peggy found herself clearing her throat, shocked at the rather accurate assessment of the young woman and how much Peggy had underestimated both her and her lazy insouciance. “You are correct in one sense, that it is wise for us to work within the purview of the US government and respect their laws. That said, we still work on an independent UN charter. All of that is neither here nor there, however, because I’ve asked Agent Coulson to return your equipment and data back to you. I’d much rather work with you and you with us than peremptorily take your work.”

Whatever the scientist had expected to hear, it wasn’t that. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Peggy glanced at Selvig, who was watching her with mild curiosity. “I was reminded, recently, that groups like SHIELD have a tendency of acting high-handedly and without thought or care to the people who are affected by it. Even the US military isn’t immune to it, as was the case with Dr. Bruce Banner, a brilliant scientist who got caught up in something much bigger than himself. I’m not here to capture him and control him, Dr. Selvig, and I’m not here to take Dr. Foster’s work. I want to work with both of them, to have them work with me and build something that would benefit everyone.”

Selvig glanced thoughtfully at Thor, who was sipping his coffee happily at the counter. “The super soldiers...you know about them? About what they did to Bruce?”

“Yes,” she replied, heavily. “I wasn’t involved with that. That was all Thaddeus Ross.”

If he was friend’s with Betty Ross, he clearly knew the stories of her father. “That’s what I figured," he responded with a weary sigh and a heavy nod.

“I want to help Banner is what I want,” Peggy tried to assure him, turning to Thor. “And you too. You said you are looking for a direction. I would be happy to have you on board.”

The tall man finished his coffee, looking at it briefly and forlornly, before pouring more. “On board for what?”

“The Avengers Initiative,” Peggy replied, perhaps a bit carelessly. The word had no meaning to any of them and she found herself trying to decide how to explain. “It’s a program SHIELD is creating to put together a team of those with unique capabilities in order to provide defense for the Earth against things far too big for any one nation or group of nations to handle on their own.”

“Like a superhero team,” Darcy supplied, half-disbelieving.

Peggy shrugged. “If you wish to call it that, but mostly it’s just people...regular, everyday people, who just happen to have abilities that they can apply to something bigger than themselves.”

“So, a superhero team,” Darcy confirmed to the room, but perhaps mostly to herself. 

Thor, however, didn’t seem to need much more convincing than her words. “Your idea has a great deal of merit, Lady Carter.”

“I’m...not a member of any peerage. It’s just ‘director.’” Peggy shifted, uncomfortable with his continued use of the title.

“He does that,” Foster assured her, deciding to rummage through her cabinets for something for the group to eat.

“I am merely saying that if I cannot serve the Nine Realms in my capacity as prince of Asgard, I can serve one of the realms here working for your...Avengers is what you are calling them?”

“Err...yes,” Peggy replied, caught off guard by the incredulity in his voice.

“Avenging what, might I ask?”

“I...I didn’t come up with the name,” she stuttered, realizing only in that moment how strange it must sound as a title for a group protecting the Earth. “I do suppose the idea is to help prevent things from happening that would need avenging.”

“Well and good,” he shrugged, happily, turning to help Foster reach for a box of what looked like pre-made pancake mix on a higher shelf. “I would be happy to work with you on this!”

A banging sounded behind them, the rattling of the glass of the front of the building on its metal frame, as knuckles rapped against it. They all turned to a quartet of people standing there, three men and a woman, all dressed as if they had stepped out of the medieval display at the British Museum. They didn’t seem to mind the stunned looks on the faces inside, rather they were too busy delightedly waving at Thor. Judging by his startled expression and the subsequent broad, wide grin, he recognized them as well.

“My friends,” he boomed, rushing to the door to let them in. Peggy turned to stare at Foster, Selvig, and Darcy, all of whom looked back at her, just as stunned.

“Dr. Foster,” Peggy sighed, picking up her now decidedly lukewarm tea. “Do you have anything stronger to go into this beverage?”

“Whiskey, bourbon, or tequila?”

“Whichever,” Peggy replied as Foster ducked for a cabinet underneath the kitchenette’s sink.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy is confronted with aliens in New Mexico.

Scott Lang had been right, aliens were real! And apparently this lot all looked and acted like humans, but were in fact gods...or like gods. Whatever they were, they were certainly not like modern people of Earth, either from the 1940s or the 2010s. Peggy took a bracing sip of bourbon-laced tea as Thor and his friends conversed.

“My friends,” Thor clapped one of the...Warriors Three, she supposed...on the shoulder. He looked as if he could pass for someone of East Asian descent on Earth, but Peggy supposed he was an...Asgardian, was it?

“I’ve never been happier to see anyone,” Thor continued, melancholy threading his words to his beaming friends. “But you should not have come.”

The fellow with the long, curly, auburn beard scoffed in disbelief, looking in confusion to the blonde man who looked as if he was impersonating Errol Flynn in a shining, metal breastplate. It was the latter who protested to Thor in confusion. “We’re here to take you home!”

That seemed to wound Thor, who frowned painfully at his stunned compatriots. “You know I cannot go home. My father is dead because of me. I must remain in exile”

The female warrior, beautiful and stern, looked shocked and hurt by Thor’s words. “Thor, your father still lives!”

Peggy watched a complex set of emotions play across Thor’s handsome face; disbelief, confusion, hurt, anger, and revelation, all at once. Still, he managed to stutter out a single-word reply to the woman, Lady Sif. “What?”

“Your father has just entered the Odinsleep, that is all. Loki has taken the throne in his absence, with your mother’s consent.”

The blonde, Errol Flynn type stepped in, clapping Thor’s upper arm, shaking him gently. “We came here to find you! We know that Loki is up to something. Like as not he set this entire thing up to get you out of the picture so he could take the throne and rule instead of you.”

Thor’s bright blue eyes shined slightly as he mulled this onslaught of information thrown at him. “And my mother...she didn’t...Frigga didn’t exile me?”

“The queen lives ever hopeful for your return,” Lady Sif assured him with a soft smile. “She said so herself, I heard her say it.”

“So...you are telling me my brother lied to me.” That was where Thor finally came down, anger rumbling in his voice, like the distant sound of thunder during a summer storm. Peggy blinked at the others - Selvig, Foster, and Darcy - all as equally confused as she.

“It’s Loki,” the bearded warrior blustered, as if this was obvious. “He lies as easily as he breathes!”

It took Peggy a long moment to remember her lessons from her childhood, of the gods Odin, Frigga, Thor, and the mischief, trickster god, Loki. It was all real? Confused beyond measure, she downed the rest of her tea laced with bourbon, choking slightly at the burn of it going down her windpipe. The noise caught Thor’s attention as he turned to the four of them - herself, the scientists, and the intern, an apology already on his lips.

“I’m so sorry, I have to handle this matter.”

That seemed to at least wake Foster up. “Wait, what? Thor!”

Already the man was in action, to the delight and relief of his friends. “Jane, I’m sorry, but I have to confront Loki.”

“And do what?” She moved in front of him, hands on her slim hips. Despite her petite stature, she fearlessly glared at him as if they were on the same level...which they decidedly were not. “Didn’t you say last night that your brother understood ruling like you never would, that you were too hot headed and impatient to rule, and that was what your father was trying to teach you?”

Her words clearly hit home with him. “Jane...you don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand my ass,” she shot back, glaring at the other warriors standing gawping at her. “He’s human now, you know. Your king, Odin, his father, stripped him of all his powers and threw him out here, like garbage, without anything, without any protection.”

“Yeah, and Jane hit him with her RV!” Darcy clearly had found her voice, delighting in revealing that bit of information to the puzzled aliens. Foster was less than pleased, turning on her intern.

“Yeah, who was the one who tased him till he passed out?”

“You can’t hold that against me! He was screaming like he was drunk! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Be that as it may,” Foster returned to her original point. “Your Odin kicked him out and took away everything from him. If there is some succession crisis, then that is on him for being a bad father!”

The aliens - Asgardians - all stared at the small scientist in vague horror at the thought. Frankly, so did Peggy, who may have still been trying to wrap her mind around the idea of alien beings and gods, but who understood perfectly well the idea of royalty, protocol, and what perhaps was going on in this scenario.

“Thor,” she called, quietly, over Foster’s shoulder. “Am I to understand that your father is the king of your homeworld and that you are his eldest son, the one meant to inherit the throne?”

Thor regarded her, nodding absently. “I’m Odin’s first born. My brother comes after me, though in fairness, he could have chosen either of us. Every few thousand years, the All-Father enters into the Odinsleep, a sort of magical respite. As the All-Father, he keeps the Nine-Realms and Asgard safe through the Odinforce, the source of all of his power. While he’s in his sleep, he is aware, but he is vulnerable, unable to protect himself or any of the rest of the known universe, so he names a regent to rule in his stead to rule over the Nine Realms. Previously, it had been my mother, as she has great magics and she is well respected, but now that my brother and I had come of age, he felt he could choose one of us. Though my brother wanted the honor, desperately so, Odin chose me to rule for him. In fact, I was about to be named king by the All-Father when the frost giants broke in and…”

He stopped, something seemingly occurring to him as he turned to his friends. “How did the frost giants get in without Heimdall knowing, anyway? We never did find out.”

Lady Sif’s disapproval was clear as she glared at him. “Because someone decided they wanted to pick a fight with Jotunheim and King Laufey.”

Besides her, Peggy thought she could hear Selvig mutter, but whatever he said, it wasn’t in English.

The quiet, stoic, dark haired warrior spoke up, finally, clearly one of the more level headed of the group. “Heimdall suspected this whole time that, somehow, the frost giants snuck in through hidden ways. They would have no way of knowing those hidden ways. But someone on Asgard would, someone who was cunning and crafty, who had the wits to know where to look, and free rein as a prince of the realm to be unimpeded, he could let them in.”

“Why?” Thor fairly snapped, like a crack of lightning.

Blonde Errol Flynn was the one who seemed to connect all the dots, finally. “Mischief! It’s as it ever has been with Loki, he can’t help himself. It was your big day, when all the realms would be feting and hailing you, and you know Loki’s never been able to abide living in your shadow. I think he intended it mostly to annoy you, knowing he could get away with it, but it then got away from him before he knew it. After that he just took advantage of the situation, seeing a chance for him to gain the sort of glory he’s never had.”

“But to betray me, our father, our mother?”

“To take a throne?” Lady Sif lifted a shoulder under her silvery armor. “They have been won and lost for less.”

Peggy had to give the warrior woman credit. Peggy herself knew her Shakespeare and her country’s own bloody history enough to know that was how many a royal struggle for power and the crown often went. Still, it was surreal to see it played out before her, like she was standing in front of the stage of the Globe in London. She wanted to offer something further for herself, something perhaps...well sane...but at that moment, the skies darkened. It was the sort of dramatic weather that seemed to happen in all the stories Peggy had ever heard of the western United States, certainly the middle bits of it, where massive thunderstorms often churned out things like tornadoes, but to see it was something else. Outside, the light of a bright, New Mexico morning dimmed and the skies darkened, as up and down the small grid of streets she could see the winds whipping up dirt and debris, leaves and twigs scudding and skidding across the pavement and around the few in town wandering on what had been a lovely morning. In the distance, the clouds gathered, churning in the sky.

Foster seemed to know what was going on. She tugged at Thor’s shirt. “Outside, look!”

He did. Without a word, he moved out of the glass door, followed by his compatriots and Foster. Looking to Selvig and Darcy, Peggy followed them out, as they all stood at the rapidly appearing and disappearing funnel cloud in the distance. The wandering citizens of the town looked curious at the unusual weather. Only the warriors, along with Thor, look worried.

“Jane,” Thor urged, eyes fixed on the distance. “You have to leave.”

“What are you going to do,” the scientist demanded, worried.

He turned to her. “I’m staying here.”

The bearded man looked pleased with this. “Thor’s going to fight with us!”

Thor turned to the lot, regret and urgency in his booming voice. “My friends, I’m only a man. I’d only be in the way, or worse, get one of you killed. But I can help get these people to safety.”

He regarded Peggy speculatively, she guessed to see if SHIELD would aid them in all of this. “What are we looking at” she asked, an eye to the far horizon.

Thor glanced in the distance, seeing something there that Peggy did not. “Something I wouldn’t have expected from my brother, not in all of our lives together.”

Just as he said it, fire exploded on the ground, and at its center, a tall, shining figure stood.

“What the hell,” Selvig gasped as Peggy felt the mixture of tea and alcohol in her stomach turn sour. Coulson and the team were out there!

Thor grimaced, fear in his expression. “People are going to die.”

Peggy took a deep breath, steadying her primal fear in the moment. “Right, we need to get people out of here. If that thing is coming up through the town, we need to coordinate and get people off the main street of the town and running away, towards the edges of town on the sides streets.”

Foster, defiant, lifted her chin as she looked at Peggy. “Well if he’s staying, so am I!”

Thor looked to his friends. “We need some time.”

“You’ll have it,” assured the blonde warrior. The other three clearly agreed, falling into step together and dispersing in a pattern only they seemed to know, not unlike how the Howling Commandos moved in Peggy's memory. She watched them depart as Selvig, Foster, Darcy, and bless him, even Thor all looked to Peggy.

“Right,” she nodded at Foster and Darcy. “You two are the fastest. Run down the street, open all the businesses, order them out and to run along the side streets, away from that thing. Whatever it is, it has explosives, so avoid anything that might...you know, blow up.”

“Got it,” Foster nodded, shooting Thor a pointed look while taking off down the street. Darcy, the poor girl, did the same, somewhat bemused.

“Selvig,” Peggy ordered, turning to him and Thor. “You help out up here. Get as many as you can out and away. Thor, you and I can direct traffic off this street. If people load up in vehicles to get out of here, which they will, help get them in as soon as fast as they can and have them drive up here. I can direct them out, but we just need them away. In the meantime, I’ll get on the line to SHIELD and have them send resources as soon as they can.”

Everyone ran off to do as they were bid. In the distance, a shining, silvery behemoth made its way, steadily, towards them. As their small crew got word out to the town, people wandered out on sidewalks, confused, as they turned to stare. Most, fearful, either ran away from the main street as quickly as they could or headed for cars, which veered out and screeched in a panic as people tried to get away.

“Come on, then!” Peggy found herself yelling at a group of startled and slow moving people standing gapping on the street corner. “Move, get away from the main area, that thing is coming.

Meanwhile, Coulson had yet to pick up his phone. Cold dread filled Peggy as she considered what his silence could betoken.

“Come on, move along,” she heard Thor’s deep voice call to teenage boys, who seemed panicked as to what to do, until a random pickup truck stopped and yelled at them. The boys hopped into the back, fearful looks on their faces. Peggy swore, loudly, directing them to her left, the next car to her right, as she stood in the middle of the street, giving up on Coulson’s number and calling Hill instead.

“Director Carter, where to next on the quinjet? Timbuktu? Wakanda?”

“We need SHIELD forces in Puente Antiguo, New Mexico,” Peggy bawled over her phone, as in the distance the form of the strange, metallic giant finally breached the town. It opened a visor on the front of its face, and nothing but hot, glowing fire gleamed. The only thing standing between it and the citizens of the town were four warriors who looked as if they had stepped out of a comic book fantasy.

She caught Hill short. “Coulson…”

“I don’t know what his situation is, but backup is needed, now!”

No sooner had she said it than the creature turned to the gas station at one corner and unleashed a gout of flames that exploded, shaking the ground and every building and window up and down the street. Peggy felt the shockwave hit her as she ducked to the ground, holding desperately to her device.

“What in the hell?” Hill gasped on the other end.

“We are under attack, an...084 or whatever it is Coulson calls it. It’s alien, it’s attacking the town and I can’t get a hold of the SHIELD base. Call Barton, have him bring reinforcements here if necessary, then hustle up anyone you can from the other base that I know you all have out here and you like to pretend I don’t know about!”

“On it! Do you need Stark?”

Peggy eyed the behemoth as it unleashed flame somewhere else. “Yes! If he can get here fast enough, yes!”

She clicked off, shoving her phone in a pocket, as more cars careened away from the chaos happening down the street. An official looking car, the town sheriff, screeched up just within feet of her, a taut, browned strip of a man with a hook nose over a grimacing mouth climbing out. “The hell is going on here?”

“Sheriff,” Peggy greeted, flinging a hand down the street. “There is a situation. We are trying to get people out of here as orderly as we can.”

His dark eyes turned, widening in a sun-darkened face, a curse falling from him. “The hell is that?”

“I don’t know,” Peggy admitted. “But it’s deadly and we are evacuating people as fast as we can. Get your officers, get them out here to make sure people get away!”

“Who the hell are you,” he turned, blinking at her. It was a rather logical question under the circumstances, given that he was a sheriff in a brown uniform and looked official, while Peggy was a rather frazzled-looking, British woman in a decidedly wrinkled soup probably screaming her head off.

“I’m with SHIELD," she tried to assure him with as much command as she could muster. "I will explain more later, if we live long enough.” 

The poor man stared at the creature, then her, with dubious confusion. Peggy pushed him back in his car. “Go!”

He tumbled back inside, reaching for his radio as Peggy slammed the door on him. “All units, all units, we have unidentified technology currently blowing up main street, stay away from the vicinity and focus on getting pedestrians and other bystanders out of the way of fire.”

The sheriff tore off once again, lights and sirens blaring. Peggy turned her attention instead to the metal man down the road. The warrior woman, Sif, had managed, somehow, to impale the thing on a spear long enough to go through its middle and into the ground. It hung on the post, limp, and a thrill of relief coursed through her as it seemed to be a relatively simple fix to what could have been a deadly situation. She was even about to say so, when the thing moved.

Worse it...rearticulated itself around the spear driven through its body.

Peggy couldn’t decide which was more horrific, the idea that it wasn’t stopped or the idea that it could do that. She stood, mouth agape, as the warrior all fell back, further up the street, the thing firing once more on cars, aiming for the running quartet as explosions rained around them. The fire ripped up the side of a group of clapboard houses, ripping into them, knocking down Sif, while the other warriors rushed to her aid. Another bolt tore across to cut the men off, sending them all flying from the blast of superheated dirt and sparks and into the simple storefronts, glass breaking and shattering.

Peggy looked to the corner across from where she stood and the huddled group of Thor, Foster, Selvig and Darcy. Without looking at them, he waved them off, the order in his voice clear. “Go, now, run! Grab Carter and go!”

They did. Whether she wanted him to or not, Selvig grabbed Peggy’s arm and dragged her along, just as another gout of the creature's flame tore through the coffee shop, sending glass and debris flying at them, causing them all to yelp and cover their heads. This was a situation Peggy was familiar with, her brain reminded her, as she crouched low behind a car, the memory of sirens ringing in her ears and smoke in her nostrils as she draped herself over Darcy, Selvig crouched over all of them, as if his body could do anything to stop the onslaught.

“Are we going to die,” Darcy yelped, softly, under Peggy’s arm.

“Hopefully not,” she muttered, poor comfort given the circumstances.

The rain of glass subsided enough for them to peek up over the back end of the car they crouched behind. Thor had made his way up the street to the injured Sif, urging her out of the way. They parted just as another blast of hot fury tore through the ground and the vehicle in front of them, sending Thor spinning back. He pulled himself off the ground enough to make his way to the three warriors, urging them with words Peggy couldn’t hear.

“What’s he doing,” Foster queeried, fear trembling in her words.

The three warriors turned, making their way to where the small knot of them stood, now joined by Sif. The dark haired and blonde men supported the auburn-bearded one between them. He had clearly been injured in one of the blasts. The blonde glared at them all, jerking his head. “We need to fall back! Come on!”

“What’s he doing,” Foster insisted, even as Selvig tried to hustle her off.

Peggy had a feeling she knew exactly what he was doing. Years spent fighting in the war, she had seen many moments just like this, from young soldiers, boys really, to seasoned veterans who had fought in places like the Verdun as boys and had survived to lead men into places like Normandy and Italy thirty years later. It was that moment of resolve, when you know that the odds are completely against you, that there is no hope of walking out of this alive, but you determine you will do it anyway in order to save the lives of your fellow soldiers, of the innocent civilians, of your home and all of its people. She’d seen it on the face of many soldiers. She had heard it in Steve’s voice when that last, fateful conversation they had together. She imagined he likely looked exactly as Thor did, walking into the middle of the dusty street to confront this creature.

Selvig tugged Darcy and Foster away, but the smaller, more lithe woman turned, breaking free. “Wait!”

They all turned to see Thor’s lonely figure meander through all of the destruction towards the towering behemoth.

“What’s he doing,” Foster gasped again as he made his way through destroyed cars and burning debris, past buildings with fire gutting their insides. Smoke curled and whisped up into the air, as he approached the thing, standing in the middle of an intersection. It lazily kicked away one of the cars that had exploded and turned on its side, blocking its path, but otherwise waited, patiently, for him to approach.

They all stood there, breathless, waiting to see what would happen.

What Thor said, what he did, they could neither see nor hear. The great, horrible visor of the body melted away, as the fire rose up again. Jane yelped beside Peggy, but Selvig held her firm, preventing her from rushing forward. But the creature did not strike, it merely stood there, menacingly, hovering over the smaller Thor for long, agonizing moments. Then, quietly, the visor rose again, and the visage of the creature went dark. Without a sound, other than the creaking of its great, horrid metal joints, it turned away…

Until it reached around to backhand Thor from behind, a cheap shot that sent him sprawling across the street, tumbling horribly over the pavement, like a rag doll, tossed away and left to sprawl, face up in the dirt. Peggy gasped, everyone did, as Foster yelped “no” and broke away from both Selvig and Sif to run to Thor’s now very still body. The rest of them moved, much more slowly, to follow to the spot that Foster had rushed towards, falling to her knees beside a battered and bloodied Thor.

Peggy didn’t hear what it was that the man said to Foster, but she did see Foster’s reaction, a slow shaking of her head, her light brown hair whipping in the soft breeze left behind in the tumult and destruction. Perhaps she was reassuring the man, perhaps she was stubbornly insisting he would live. Peggy knew that moment well, an aching familiarity gripping her as tears flooded her eyes, taking her by surprise. The poor man didn’t look as injured as all of that from the outside, but Peggy knew too well that a blow like that could leave injuries inside that could be deadly; a collapsed or punctured lung, internal bleeding, perhaps even spinal injuries. If he wasn’t already trying to move and get up, she feared the worst.

Around her, his friends, Selvig, and even Darcy, all stared in stunned disbelief as in the distance, the creature didn’t even turn to look back. It simply walked inexorably out of the town, it’s steps a heavy, thudding backbeat to the path of destruction it had wrought over the entire landscape of the town. Peggy watched it go, numb and horrified, as Foster whimpered softly on the group beside the fallen man’s body.

Far off, across the desert plain, Peggy thought she could hear the crack of thunder.

For long moments, none of them could move, too stunned by what had just occurred to say anything. Darcy beside her keened, softly, her face crumpling. Lady Sif looked heartbroken at the sight, while the other three men seemed too stunned for words. Even Selvig looked crushed, glancing at Peggy as if seeking her guidance as to what to do. Frankly, Peggy didn’t know.

The wind picked up softly, blowing in the wake of the creature who had wrought such damage. On the horizon, the clouds that had gathered now scudded away, harmless white fluff against a blue sky, only marred by the continued rise of curls of black smoke from buildings burning around them. The distant wail of sirens could be heart, and on the horizon, one, single contrail rose, darting towards the town. Peggy eyed it, thinking it must be SHIELD.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

It was Selvig who seemed to know what was going on first, thinking quickly and rushing for Foster, yelling her name. Foster looked up, they all did, watching whatever it was as it barrelled towards them. Wildly, Peggy thought it must be a missile, sent by SHIELD to destroy the creature, and wondered if she could possibly call it off before people died. Selvig made a grab for Jane, pulling her, protesting, away from the body of Thor, just as the thing made its way to the town. Peggy yelped, grabbing Darcy to pull down to the ground and shield her, foolishly, the delighted grins on the faces of Thor’s companions not even registering with her as she did.

Lightning surged out of a clearing sky, electricity sparked, and the world went so bright, Peggy had to shield her eyes from it. Darcy screamed as pure, white light surged to the heavens, and somewhere in the middle of that was Thor. When it occurred to Peggy that they hadn’t been blown up yet and didn’t seem to be dying, she sat up, allowing the girl to move, both of them confused and awed as in the column of light, a figure bearing something aloft seemed to appear.

“Oh my God,” Foster gasped, open mouthed, just like Selvig, and Peggy imagined, just like herself as she sat on the ground, wrists on her upturned knees, watching as the behemoth turned around once more to glare at the sight. No sooner than it did, then it seemed to recognize something was going on, as its visage opened once more. But before it could unleash any more terror, out of the stream of lightning, a hammer - the hammer, the one that was embedded in rock and soil at the SHIELD facility - flew straight towards it, bashing the metallic giant in its faceless visor, causing it to reel backwards, sparks flying. The hammer flew back and into the waiting clasp of Thor, now clad in glittering, silvery armor, like his compatriots, his crushing wounds healed, a flowing, red cape now hanging from his shoulders.

Peggy thought she had seen stranger things in her lifetimes. Apparently, she was wrong.

Thor dropped the hammer over his wrist, a thong wrapping itself around it as he began to spin it, lazily at first, gaining momentum, creating a small cyclone of smoke, dust, and debris. In front of him, the fallen metal creature rose, almost angrily, firing flame into the air, seemingly being turned by Thor himself. The tornado tugged and pulled at the creature, who tried to stand its ground, but kept getting knocked about by flying cars and other detritus. Eventually, it too was picked up off the ground by the winds, as easily as one of the other ruined bits of metal. It flew up higher into the darkness, the only sign of it the glowing spot where its visor had clearly opened, the raging furnace inside of it burning through the clouds. It promised to rain fire on Thor and all of them, but the man seemed to leap up to meet it, his hammer pushing back the flame. Following it was a burst of fire, smoke, and destruction, as Peggy and Darcy picked themselves up, staring up into the sky in wonder and fear at who would come out the winner.

And then, the battle was over. At least, Peggy assumed it was over. The world became silent again as the winds stopped, the cloud began to disperse, and out of the middle of it strode the fully armored god, Thor, the creature and various cars falling in his wake as he marched, resolute, to where they all stood. Well...specifically where Foster stood, staring at Thor.

It took the poor woman a long moment to be able to speak. Frankly, Peggy didn't blame her, she was still trying to make sense of the last few minutes of her life, herself.

“So, is this how you normally look,” Jane finally asked as Thor came to stand before her, red cape fluttering in the breeze.

“More or less,” he replied with the hint of a smirk.

“It’s a good look,” she muttered. Peggy couldn’t see her face to know what her expression was like, but she figured it had to be somewhere in the vicinity of awed and impressed.

Thor grinned, looking at his friends standing beside Peggy. “We must go to the Bifrost site! I would have words with my brother.”

As he spoke, cars came screeching up the side road, pulling to a stop. Peggy’s heart leapt at the sight of SHIELD vehicles, and then melt in relief as Coulson climbed out of one of them, glaring pointedly at Thor. “Excuse me!”

The rest turned to him, surprised. Peggy made to intercede as Coulson marched to Thor, his polite veneer stretched taut over frustration and anger. “Donald, I don’t think you’ve been completely honest with me.”

If Thor was worried or offended by Coulson’s implications, he didn’t seem to show it. “Know this, son of Cole, you and I, we fight for the same cause, the protection of this world. From this day forward, you can count me as your ally, you and Lady Carter.”

He then glanced at Peggy, resolutely. “If you return the items you have taken from Jane.”

“Stolen,” Foster corrected, glaring at Coulson.

“Borrowed,” Coulson shot back, just as fast. He glanced at Peggy, and she thought she could detect a bit of a resigned grimace as he turned back to Foster. “Of course you can have your equipment back. You’re going to need it to continue your research.”

Peggy could only smile, pleased Coulson had so readily agreed. “And perhaps, when everything is said and done, Dr. Foster, we could discuss our other ideas as well, you and me.”

That seemed to please the other woman greatly. “Sure! When, you know, the town isn’t burning.”

They all glanced at the destruction around them, sadly, all save Thor, who only had eyes for Foster. “Would you like to see the bridge we spoke of?”

Surprised, she frowned, uncertainly. “Uh, sure!”

Without a by your leave, he wrapped one powerful arm around her waist, pulling her to him as she gasped and laughed. In a trice, he raised his hammer up and pulled them both into the skies, his compatriots laughing as Coulson, hopelessly, called after them. “Wait, we need to debrief you!”

“It’s back to Asgard and won’t this be an unpleasant surprise for Loki,” the blonde warrior grinned happily with glee.

“Yeah, but we need to make it back to the bridge point for Heimdall to let us through,” Sif muttered, dryly eyeing Thor and the direction he went. As it stood, the large man with the red beard was still injured, being held up by the dark-haired warrior.

“Umm...I have a solution for that,” Darcy answered, pulling keys from the pocket of her jeans and nodding to a camper parked in the lot by the abandoned dealership that Foster had been using as her base. “As long as you don’t mind the fact it’s old, gross, and smells a bit like sweaty, unwashed socks.”

“Nothing we haven’t smelled before, dear lady,” the blonde warrior assured her, gallantly sweeping in to take her hand and bow over it, much to Darcy’s surprise and clear delight. “We thank you for the service.”

“Well,” she flushed, glancing at Selvig who eyed the gesture with disapproval, before clearing her throat and jerking her wooly hat towards the direction of the camper. “Load up and we’ll get you out of here.”

“Director?” Coulson called, the question clear in his tone.

“I’ll stay here,” she said in reply. The group stopped, looking to her, particularly Selvig and Darcy. “I’ll coordinate efforts with the local authorities for emergency aid and clean up. You get this lot to where they need to go and if you could, give me a full report when you get back.”

Selvig studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Come on, Darcy. Let’s get them out there.”

Peggy watched the lot of them go, the warriors supporting their injured friend and helping him inside. As she did, Coulson came up beside her. She knew he was taking in the destruction, as well as the motley crew that was making their way out of town and to the spot where the mysterious creature had first come.

“What in the hell happened?” It was his only question.

Peggy glanced sideways at him, blinking in a daze. “Well...he’s not a super soldier, I can now confirm that with some clarity.”

She couldn’t help herself. The look on Coulson’s face sent her into peels of giggles that she really couldn’t explain.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy chats with Barton and Foster.

Life in Puente Antiguo would never be the same.

“The National Guard has a unit on the way and the Red Cross is sending aid.” Coulson had put up something of a command post in the parking lot of the used car dealership that Foster had been using as her home base. “Barton, how is security looking?”

“Got a perimeter set around the town of SHIELD agents and sheriff’s deputies. Those whose homes were destroyed in the attack are sheltering at the local high school the next town over.”

A random agent, Peggy thought their name was Nichols, shook his head at Barton’s statement. “Imagine being from a town so small the closest place to go to high school is the next town over.”

“Why?” Barton blinked at him with cold, uncanny eyes. “I grew up in Iowa, fairly normal there.”

The agent flushed, looked flustered, then wandered away to a comfort station the coffee shop owner had opened in front of her damaged building. Peggy watched the agent go as Barton sneered after him. 

“That was the stupidest comment I’ve heard out of someone,” he remarked, clearly short tempered and tired. They all were after hours of clean up and crisis management. The sun had gone down long ago and the fires in the main part of town were finally put out. It was a miracle that more damage hadn’t been done, considering the gas station. It had a mechanism that had turned off the pumps, thus preventing further damage than there was. Still, the entire main street area was in ruins, businesses destroyed, homes damaged, cars and other property burned.

For Peggy, who was facing this situation for the second time in a week, and who had flown overnight to step in the middle of all of this, she couldn’t suppress the yawn that escaped her. “We are all tired, Barton. I think Nichols is running on empty, like most of us.”

“I think he’s running on idiocy, but who am I to judge?”

Peggy snorted, realizing he was speaking from the same place of exhaustion as herself. “You should head back to base, bunk down.”

“I will when Coulson does.”

Peggy looked to the senior agent on site, who was busy once more on the phone, this time to what sounded like the governor of the state. “I think he will be a while.”

“Sounds about right,” Barton muttered, leaning against the hood of the car, watching the ghostly figures of people huddled in blankets under lights run by gasoline generators brought in by several of the local ranchers. Everyone had pitched in together to take care of each other. It reminded Peggy a bit of the war, of the neighborhoods she would see, everyone looking after one another in a time of crisis.

“My hometown was a bit like this,” Barton mused, booted heel propped on the front fender of Coulson’s sedan. “Not...exactly like this. It was a bit more green and hilly.”

“Iowa, you said.” Peggy didn’t precisely know where Iowa was, save that it was in the middle and along the Mississippi. She slipped up on the hood beside him, her feet and back aching after hours of standing. She had a rather nasty bruise along her side from the power of one of the explosions, and that didn’t help as she shifted gingerly up next to him.

“Yeah,” he nodded in the bright, white flare of the lights. “Town called Waverly, about 9000 people, so bigger than this place, but still not huge. Had a main street, kind of like this. Used to go hang out up there as a kid with my brother and friends.”

In the brief and few times she had ever actually connected with Barton on a level on anything outside of work, none of those times had ever been about who he was and his own life. It surprised her he brought it up now. “I thought Coulson had mentioned you had a brother.”

Barton nodded, cutting a glance to her, knowingly. “That the only thing he mention?”

“No,” she admitted, thinking back to the very first days he had met Coulson, and the files on both Barton and Romanoff that he had produced. “He mentioned it wasn’t easy for you as a child.”

Barton shrugged, considering. “It’s a way of putting it. I usually say my father was an abusive, drunken asshole.”

Peggy conceded. “I suppose that assessment is correct, too.”

Barton’s chuckle was wry and dry as he regarded a group of kids, shouting and calling to each other in the distance, finding at least some joy in play despite the destruction that was wrought all around them. “Mom was the one from Waverly. She grew up there, had parents, grandparents all from there. It was a good place to grow up. Boring, but you know, wholesome in that Mayberry sort of way.”

Peggy knew something of that. She felt at times her childhood was quieter and simpler, especially in comparison to that of most of the Howling Commandos. Even Howard’s childhood had been something of a horror show compared to her own. “Your mother must have worked hard to make things good for you, especially considering your father.”

“She tried.” His smile was faint, but endearing. “I guess she wanted to make up for the abusive fuck my father was, tried to give us good memories and a good home. I remember, there was a night when a storm came through, tornadoes and everything, took out the power to most of the town. Me and Barney were terrified, but I was trying to be brave. She set up a whole tent in the basement, with sleeping bags, and pillows, and camp food, and we pretended we were sleeping out in the woods, surviving like the old explorers.” He chuckled, looking down at his outfit. “I suppose it was good preparation for what I eventually became.”

“She sounds like a wonderful mother.”

“She was,” he sighed, wistfully, the sort of sigh one made when one’s parent was no longer with them. Peggy knew that sigh well.

“How did she pass?”

“Car accident,” he uttered, as matter-of-factly as if he were discussing the weather. “Slick roads in winter. She and Dad were coming back from Waterloo, a doctor’s appointment, a normal, run of the mill thing. Car in the other lane hit a patch of ice and lost control, slammed headlong into them, killed them both. Just a freak accident, that’s all.”

Peggy couldn’t help but think of Stark in that moment, of how Howard and his wife died so long ago. “That had to be so difficult.”

“Yeah,” Barton’s response was gruff and clipped. “In a way, I’m glad she and Dad went together. If she’d gone first, he’d have likely just drunk himself down a hole and died, or killed someone else doing something stupid. Sounds horrible, but I was more glad he was gone with her.”

“Families are complicated,” Peggy said, simply. Heaven knew her own family was complicated enough. She wasn’t about to judge anyone on theirs. “Is your brother still there, then, back home in Waverly?”

“Barney? No!” He chuckled, something about the question making him laugh. “Sorry, he’s not Barney anymore, he’s Charles. He went off to college and became sophisticated, started going by his real first name. He actually works for the FBI now.”

There was a funny sort of symmetry to that. “And you went into SHIELD.”

“Well, I did the whole GED/Army thing, then I went into SHIELD, sure.”

Peggy hummed, watching the crowds gathered to get hot coffee and something to eat. “Seems to me a bit of your mother survived in her two sons. That’s not a bad legacy to have.”

“No,” he agreed, softly. “Maybe that’s why I fought so hard for Nat.”

Peggy knew of course he had been the one to sponsor the mercurial, former KGB assassin, the one who pushed Fury to take her into SHIELD. The reasons for it were less clear to her, but Peggy also hadn’t probed deeply. “Because of your mother?”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “I kept thinking that if she were around, she’d have tried to feed her a home-cooked meal and spoiled her rotten with attention. That was how she was. Always taking care of someone, whether it was my fucked up, alcoholic father, or my dumb, teenage ass. I guess in the moment I couldn’t help myself, I seem to be attracted to trying to help out strays and lost causes.”

“I think she would be proud,” Peggy mused, seeing a great deal to admire in her son. Before she could probe much further, though, down the street, the two white lights and faded front end of Jane Foster’s camper came into view in the over-bright glare of the borrowed, generator lamps lining the street.

“Wonder how that went,” Barton mused as they pulled up slowly, maneuvering around the small knots of townsfolk who eyed them curiously as they pulled into the parking lot filled with SHIELD reinforcements managing help and clean up. Peggy slid off the hood, her feet touching the ground just as the doors opened, disgorging Selvig, Darcy, and Foster, who regarded everything with wide, quiet eyes.

“Wow,” Darcy finally spoke, hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket. “You guys work fast.”

“It’s not the only disaster we’ve had to handle this week,” Peggy replied. “Though I think the mayor of Puente Antiguo is a bit more understanding than the mayor of New York.”

“Right, that Tony Stark fiasco!” Even Darcy seemed to feel it was a million years ago and not two days. “I mean, sure, he had a crazy terrorist try to blow up his big party, but, we had alien gods or something, so obviously that ranks us as the cooler disaster, right?”

“Darcy,” Foster snapped, half irritated, half just exhausted. 

The girl turned to her mentor, shrugging. “What? It’s true!”

It was Selvig who swooped in, wrapping an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “Hey, Darce, why don’t we go and find some coffee, something to eat.”

Realizing she was being handled, the girl at least went along with it. Peggy could hear her voice as she followed Selvig across the street. “Right...fine, I get it, Darcy opened her mouth and inserted foot again, yeah?”

“I’m not saying you don’t have a talent,” Selvig replied as they wandered off. 

Barton, who had come up beside Peggy, eyed them with a grin. “Smart mouthed kid. I like those.”

“She’s too young for you,” Foster immediately cut him off with a glare and all the fury of a protective hen. “So before you get any ideas…”

Barton held up his hands, covered in fingerless gloves, in mild protest. “Hey, lady, not interested in the college type anyway.” He turned to Peggy, more than a bit askanced at the idea. “I think I’ll go get myself a cup myself. Either of you want anything?”

Foster shook her head, mistrust and despair in her expression. Peggy humored Barton at least. “Tea if they have it, coffee if they don’t.”

“Right!” He tipped her a jaunty salute, making his way across the street to where the people gathered. She knew what he was about, mining the other two for information over a friendly cup of something warm, the casual, every man SHIELD agent as opposed to the suit that was very much Coulson’s persona. She had a feeling that Darcy in particular would be more forthcoming with someone like that, perhaps even Selvig, if he got past the idea that Barton was a SHIELD operative. With Barton handling that piece of it, Peggy turned instead to Foster.

“I am assuming that your friend returned to his home planet, then?”

Foster’s sad, quiet nod was answer enough. Peggy glanced back up the street, to the direction where all the strange activity began earlier in the day. She couldn’t pretend to understand half of this, but she did know one thing; whatever the world had believed about its place in the universe, that had all changed drastically in the last few hours.

“Did he say if he’s returning?”

“He said he would come back for me,” Foster replied, though her soft, thin voice didn’t sound convinced of this. “I waited there to see if he would come back through. He didn’t. I waited hours, but...time and space work strangely. Maybe he’s still busy, maybe he’s not able to get back right away.”

Considering he was going home to an attempted, political coup, it could also have been something worse. “Maybe you are right.”

Foster nodded, not looking particularly convinced. “Do you think he’s dead? I mean, his brother, he sent that horrible robot to try and kill him as a human. What is to say he didn’t have something else planned when Thor got back?”

“I don’t know,” Peggy admitted, wishing she could allay the woman’s fears. “You’ve grown quite fond of him, haven’t you?”

In the harsh, white light, Foster’s flushed cheeks were easy to see. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mmm, a bit.” Peggy shrugged, hardly one to judge. “I believe he’s grown fond of you as well. If he can make it back, I’m sure he will.”

The other woman’s expression was still uncertain. She glanced over Peggy’s shoulder to where Coulson was still on the phone and barking commands. “So is SHIELD taking over the place?”

Peggy glanced back at the command center, briefly. “Only insofar as they are gaining aid. Coulson’s been working with the mayor and has been on the phone with the governor to get additional help. They are sending it as fast as they can. SHIELD is going to work with them to set up temporary shelter and help rebuild what damage they can.”

Foster’s dark eyes took in the havoc all around. “I feel I brought this on, in a weird way. If I hadn’t been here…”

“I have a feeling, piecing together what I could from Thor’s story, that even if you hadn’t been here, this might have happened.” Not that Peggy understood much of it, but things from her own past began to make more sense, the stories she had studied when she had first joined the SOE and the SSR, on the trail of Johann Schmidt and the Tesseract. “I believe that Thor and his kind have been coming to Earth for a long, long time and leaving behind pieces here that have had a profound effect on us. Perhaps it was inevitable for him to end up here and for this to play out.”

“Maybe,” Foster wasn’t as convinced, but then, seeing the destruction and knowing she had a role in it would likely haunt her for a long, long time. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A few people, yes, but thankfully only a handful. One person was seriously injured, they were in one of the apartments that was caught in the crossfire, but I believe they are expected to make it.”

Guilt flickered, but Foster seemed to find her breath again. “Good, that’s good! They will be okay.”

They fell into a companionable silence, watching the activity around them. It was Foster, predictably, who finally spoke up, cutting to the heart of what would interest her most. “My equipment, Agent Coulson promised it back.”

“And we will get it to you when things settle down,” Peggy assured her. Foster at least didn’t complain about that. “SHIELD has no interest in stopping you from doing your work.”

Foster arched an elegant and supremely dubious eyebrow up at Peggy. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“You assume we are trying to shut your work down?”

“Why else would you take my stuff?”

Peggy sighed, glancing at Coulson’s bent head as he apparently was reviewing something on a computer. “SHIELD has been - has always been - in the business of protecting the world, all of it, not just one country over another. Sometimes, to do that, we need the right information and you had it. I can’t say I agree with Agent Coulson’s methods, but I do understand what he was about. No one is trying to stifle your work, just...we are trying to understand.”

“You could have asked, you know,” she grumbled, defensively.

“Yes, we could have. It was rather high handed. But would you have volunteered it?”

She shrugged rather diffidently, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. “Maybe...probably...if you’d asked nice.”

Now it was time for Peggy to give her a doubtful look.

“All right, probably not, but still….all my work! Years of research! This has been my life since my dissertation, the heart of my thesis! Everything I’ve done for years has been towards this!”

Peggy understood it. After all, SHIELD in many ways was her legacy. “Proving the existence of Einstein’s theory?”

“He said it was theoretical. I wanted to prove it really happened.”

“Was the research yours, originally, or your father’s?”

That Peggy had dropped that bit of knowledge surprised Foster. She stuttered a bit as she replied, somewhat defensively. “Mine! Well, I mean, Dad was the one who taught me about it, listened to me carry on about it, encouraged me to research it, but it was my project, not his. He...he was a good teacher, a great one. He liked to push his students to, you know, dream big and get deep into the data, to push further. He pushed me hardest of all, I guess. But he was this boring, comfortable college professor. He was...hopelessly English. He liked his old, comfy jumpers and his cushy armchair, and taking long walks in the park, and burying his nose in science journals. Doing this, out here in the field, wasn’t something he would have loved, but he loved the idea that I was doing it and exploring. He sent me off with Erik when I was in college so I could get experience.”

As Foster described her father and the relationship they had, Peggy thought of her own father. Harrison Carter, too, fit that description, a man who liked his old cardigan, the comforts of his office, and a good law review that often lay cluttered in some corner of the house, much to Amanda Carter’s despair. He’d never once discouraged Peggy in her pursuits, despite his worry for her, especially that. He’d perhaps quietly pushed her to do what she wished, even as her own mother had despaired at ever turning Peggy into a proper young lady.

“Anyway,” Foster continued, softly. “He passed a few years ago. Cancer, years of smoking. He never did listen to me on that. I won’t lie, perhaps the fact I keep pursuing this...maddening, insane theory despite all common sense is him. He’s the reason I got into this in the first place, he’s the one who pushed me into researching it. I feel I should keep doing it for him.”

Peggy understood that sentiment implicitly well. “And if I asked, nicely, would you be willing to continue this work under SHIELD’s auspices?”

Foster looked less surprised by the question than Peggy thought she would be. “What, so SHIELD can control the data?”

“Perhaps not to control the data, but certainly to benefit from it.” She’d thought this through over the hours since Thor’s untimely departure, and frankly even on the long flight the night before, considering the situation. “You’re god has just opened up a whole, new universe for us. I know for a fact others have come here in the past, and I suspect, strongly, that they will be coming in the future. I can’t pretend to know or understand a thing about any of this, but I know you do. You have a passion for this. Your grant funding runs out at the end of this year, correct?”

Foster blinked, finally taken aback. “How did you...”

“We are an intelligence agency, Dr. Foster, and we did do our homework.”

He brow knitted, clearly uncomfortable with the idea SHIELD knew that. “All right, yeah, it runs out.”

“With SHIELD’s backing you won’t have to worry about future funding.”

That was obviously appealing to her. “And what about the patents on my equipment?”

Peggy considered the deal she had made with Stark. “All research, patents, and data will be yours, as long as we get to benefit from the work.”

Foster was brilliant, and she could see her considering carefully the idea. “What about Darcy? I mean, she’s not a scientist, but she’s good at data synthesizing and she also makes sure that I eat something other than Fruit Loops.”

“You can bring on anyone you wish, even your intern.”

“And Erik?”

“That will be a conversation we will have with him specifically, if he wishes to work with SHIELD or not.” Peggy had a feeling that the suspicious Selvig would be a different matter, one she would need to speak to individually. “I would want you working with me and the team I am putting together specifically.”

That made Foster curious. “You want me for your...Avengers?”

“Yes!”

“But...I don’t have a superpower!”

“No, but you do have a key set of skills to help those who do, and that’s as important, especially in dealing with the sort of things we are likely to face.”

Foster was brilliant enough to get her meaning. “You mean, more aliens.”

“Yes,” Peggy confirmed, turning an eye up to the skies, which were blotted, briefly, by the gasoline-power lights. “Thor is not alone out there.”

“I know,” Foster affirmed, turning her face up as well. “And I know not all of them out there are friendly. It’s why he vowed to defend the Earth.”

“At least we have one ally.” Peggy sighed, feeling exhausted and worried all at once. Something was coming, she knew it, but she didn’t understand what, only that the one name she had was Thanos. Perhaps, with the likes of Foster, and eventually Thor, they could make some headway towards better understanding who he was and what his actual goal and purpose could be...and if they could stop it before half of all living things died.”

But for now, she at least was starting to get the makings of a team together.

“I feel I should warn you,” she began, carefully, letting her gaze slide sideways to Foster. “That if you do come and help us that you will potentially be working on the same team as Tony Stark.”

Foster’s dreamy expression turned sharp as she snapped towards Peggy. “Wait...what?”

“Thought I should perhaps warn you about that,” Peggy replied, lazily, as Foster began to curse, loudly.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy realizes there is yet another fire to put out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a trigger warning note on a throw away line in this regarding campus safety and guns. Having been in higher ed all my adult life, either as a student or employee, that's a sad fact of life we deal with all the time (well, in the before times when we were on campus). The sad fact of the US is that when there is police activity on a college campus, that is often the first place people's minds go, and I wish it weren't, but I wanted to note that a reference is made for everyone. Thank you.

Peggy was two more days in Puente Antiguo with Coulson and Barton managing the crisis that hit the town. For New Mexico, which rarely had anything this huge ever occur in it, it was the headline in places like Santa Fe and Albuquerque, with news vans and reporters canvassing the town, often getting in the way of the actual assistance efforts of SHIELD, the National Guard, and the Red Cross. The governor, of course, had made his appearance, reassuring the townsfolk and ranchers, speaking with the media, and then spending a long two hours locked in a room with Coulson on the matter. Peggy could have interjected herself, she supposed, but the entire show had been Coulson’s and she had little input, outside of her own vested interest in the Avengers. As to that…

“What would our role be in this...superhero, super force?” Jane Foster had her equipment back and was setting it back up in her run down car dealership, lovingly going over every bit of it, much as Stark would one of his suits.

Peggy understood her question, after all, as brilliant as Foster was, she wasn’t precisely Tony Stark. “Like I said the other day, the world has now been opened up with Thor’s arrival. He’s not the only one out there in the galaxy. The more we know about what’s out there and how this universe works, the better it will be for all of us.”

“And I can continue to do my research?”

“Absolutely, provided that in your research if you find anything you feel we need to know you share with us before publishing.”

Foster seemed to be pleased with this. “So, I’ll be on what, Team Science?”

“Well, SHIELD has its own science division, but you would be assigned specifically to the Avengers Initiative.”

“No, it’s a...it’s a thing they talk about in research all the time, you know, when you get more than one scientist in a room and you have to make it all work?”

Peggy would have to take her word for it. “I suppose in that sense you’ll be working with more than one. Stark, obviously.”

Foster wrinkled her nose. “He’s more of an engineer.”

“I wouldn’t tell him that.” She had a feeling Stark would only take it as a challenge and seek to prove Foster wrong, a show of dominance Peggy really didn’t need. She looked to Erik Selvig across the way, working with Darcy on a laptop computer. “Dr. Selvig, there is always room for more if you have an interest!”

The older astrophysicist had kept his distance in the negotiations, though he hadn’t dissuaded Foster from doing it. To her surprise, he smiled, speculative as she shrugged. “Perhaps, but your Coulson has asked me to do something else for him at the moment.”

Not that Coulson had to check with her, but it did catch Peggy by surprise that he had swooped in so fast. “I wasn’t aware he was talking to you.”

“Ahh, well, he had a different project for me,” Selvig continued to type as he spoke. “Something at Pegasus, out by Alamogordo. I don’t know what yet, he said there is a top level clearance and I will know more when I get there.”

Foster turned to him in mild, teasing outrage. “How come you rate the super, secret, top level clearance project?”

“Age and experience, my dear.”

Frankly, Peggy understood that frustration. She had known that Coulson’s time was predominantly taken up by some project out here and that he couldn’t or wouldn’t discuss it with her. She also knew from conversations that there was an important SHIELD base out here, one that for some unfathomable reason they kept secret, even from Peggy. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know about the Alamogordo facility. She’d been there during the war, particularly on the Project: Rebirth program, and while she imagined that the focus on its research had changed in the decades since, the reasons for the secrecy eluded her.

Darcy Lewis cut into Peggy’s thoughts, however, inserting herself into the mild teasing. “Face it, Jane, you are too boring for the super spies to want to come and play with their world dominating toys!”

“I’m not boring,” she shot back, acerbically, glancing to Peggy, thoughtful beside her. “Am I?”

“You’ll be working with Tony Stark regularly, and I don’t think he knows how to lead a boring life.”

Foster grinned back at Darcy. “See, not boring.”

“Hmmm, yeah, wonder what Thor would have to say about you and Tony Stark working together. You do know his reputation, right?”

Darcy had crossed a line. She clearly didn’t mean it and knew it the moment her teasing had cut too far. Both Peggy and Selvig stopped to stare first at her, then at Foster, whose cheeks burned bright red as she wilted, suddenly very interested in the tools she was fiddling with between her long, lithe fingers. A long, uncomfortable silence rang in the space, punctuated by the sound of electrical trucks outside, working on the downed power lines and broken light poles.

“Jane,” Darcy gasped, realizing her faux paux immediately. “I’m sor…”

“No, it’s fine.” The other woman lifted her thin shoulders under her well-worn t-shirt and purple flannel overshirt. “I mean, you’re right, Stark has a reputation. But, Thor’s been gone two days, and it’s not like we had a relationship or anything. For God’s sakes, I hit him with my RV, twice, and sprang him from jail...or, you know, SHIELD. I mean, all we did was sit up all night, talking about the world tree, and all the places he’s seen, and Asgard, and...you know, sure I kissed him, but the heat of the moment…I mean he hardly knew me.”

Peggy glanced at the other two, who watched Foster, a mix of sadness and pity in their expressions. Darcy clearly felt remorse for her quick and unintentionally hurtful words. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I was shooting my mouth off, like I do.” The girl rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating way meant to perhaps lighten the situation, but which did little but make it more awkward. “I just...wasn’t thinking. It’s been two days, who knows what’s going on up there. Maybe...maybe there’s a war and he’s got to protect his planet? Or maybe things got really crazy with his asshat brother trying to usurp the throne.”

“Or maybe his brother succeeded and he’s dead for real this time,” Foster replied, fixing Darcy with a pained look. “Who knows what is going on? Maybe this is just one of those moments you read about in stories where the dashing knight swoops in and the maiden never sees him again.”

Peggy’s heart ached for the scientist beside her. Frankly, she had never liked those stories, finding them unnecessarily maudlin. She knew too well the pain of finding a love and losing it suddenly, and she also knew that neither time nor the world stopped for heartache. Giving herself purpose had helped Peggy move forward, especially in the dark, last weeks of the war and the months of change after. Perhaps, the Avengers Initiative could do the same for Jane Foster.

“He may well be fine, but unable to come back immediately,” Peggy finally offered, cutting into the conversation. “And if there is any way for us to make contact with him, it lies in your work.”

“And I can stay here for right now?” Foster twiddled with her equipment, but Peggy had a feeling she was interested, and even more so, that she was likely going to agree.

“For now, yes. We don’t have facilities for you just yet, and besides, you are close enough to Alamogordo that if you need anything, clearly they can help.” She cut a slightly exasperated look to the oblivious Selvig. “In the meantime, SHIELD will have a presence in town for a few weeks as they help clean up. They can help you set up your lab.”

“Good, because the skies here are perfect for what I do.” Foster nodded, setting down her tools and wiping her hand on her jeans before thrusting it out towards Peggy. “Deal?”

Peggy’s grin was genuine as she took Foster’s. “Deal!”

No sooner had they shaken on it then a surprised yelp sounded from Selvig, who had not really looked up from his newly returned laptop all morning. There was more than a hint of alarm in it, catching both women’s attention as he frowned at his screen, mouth open.

“What is it?” Foster let go to wander to him, Darcy already brazenly hanging over the other scientist's shoulder to read whatever he was looking at.

“An email alert from Culver University. They said to stay away from the Young Memorial Lawn by the Science Centers due to an unspecified threat. They’ve urged all the students and faculty to shelter in place.” The color drained from his pale face, his mouth working in shock. “They didn’t say why, only that it was not a drill.”

The other women paled as well, Darcy immediately reaching for a television remote as Foster whipped around to read Selvig’s screen. “It’s not a shooting, is it?”

“They don’t say.”

Darcy was already on a news channel, watching with wide eyes behind her glasses, as a studio anchor was speaking, an inset picture of a high level view of the university - most likely from a helicopter - played just to the side. The words on the bottom of the screen spoke to some sort of dangerous incident at the university campus, with no more guidance than that.

Ominously, the phone in Peggy’s pocket began to buzz. Hastily, she grabbed at it, turning from the stunned trio, expecting it was Coulson watching the same event. “Carter!”

“Peggy!” Cassandra’s voice on the other end was breathless. “We may have had a break on the Banner situation.”

“Really? Where?”

“Um...well…”

Behind her there was a gasp from the scientists and intern, with Foster yelping “Oh my God!” Peggy turned to see what looked like a large, military style vehicle flying across the green swath of grass and trees, as if it had been punted.

Peggy’s mouth went horribly dry. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

She could almost see Cassandra cringing at her tone. “I guess you know there is something happening at Culver?”

“What in the hell is going on?”

That caught the other’s attention, as they now turned to look at her bellowing into her phone.

“In fairness, we didn’t know! Stark was working on something to track Banner using a spectrometer, but he had yet to get anything put together. He’s in his suit now, heading down there to see if he can do damage control.”

“Before any students or employees are hurt?” If she didn’t have the attention of Foster, Selvig and Darcy before, she certainly did now.

“He’s getting down there as fast as he can, but Ross beat him to it.”

Peggy watched the action unfolding on the television screen in horror. “How did he get there? How did Ross find out about it?”

“We don’t know, we are scrambling as it is! I’ve called in Hill, she’s marshalling forces to head there now, but with the clean up in Queens and now in New Mexico, everything is stretched thin!”

A chain of destruction across the United States and somehow Peggy was in the middle of it. “Can we get into Thaddeus Ross at all? Tell him to stand down?”

“Like he would listen to SHIELD at all, but yeah, Hill is already on the phone with the Head of the Joint Chiefs. In the meantime, what do you want me doing?”

“Keep an eye on him and where he goes, don’t lose him! Maybe Stark can talk him down.”

“Because we all know he’s famous for his skills of diplomacy and tact.”

“What else do I have, Cassandra?”

“I know, I know! I’ll work with Burk to keep whatever eyes we got on him, track him wherever he goes.”

“Good! I’ll get my pilot rousted from whatever Coulson has him doing and be out there in a few hours. I want updates every twenty minutes.”

“Got it,” Cassandra assured her, signing off as Peggy was left to stare at her phone. For a moment, she forgot that the other three were watching her with open expectation.

“You said Thaddeus Ross,” Selvig finally spoke up, clearly putting all the variables together. “You mean Betty’s father?”

“Yes!” A thought occurred to Peggy as she regarded him. “You were friends with Bruce Banner, yes?”

He hadn’t expected that name to pop out of her mouth. “How did you…”

“Do you know what exactly happened to him?”

“No,” he barked, shaking his head, though clearly he suspected something nefarious. “Betty had roped him into her father’s research project, a secret one, and that was the last I ever heard from him. He disappeared. I assumed he went on the run from the government for what he knew.”

“He didn’t...disappear, exactly.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy yelped in horror in the background. “Was that an explosion?”

“What in the hell is going on?” Foster aimed the question to Peggy, finally catching on that she knew something.

“What in the hell do you mean Banner didn’t disappear?” Selvig probed further.

Where to even begin?

“You know how I thought your Thor was a super soldier?” Peggy glanced between the two of them, both nodding in basic understanding. “I have years of experience with that serum. I know that the US Army has been running a program, spearheaded by Thaddeus Ross, that has been doing research into recreating it. One of their projects was led by Betty Ross, who recruited Bruce Banner, to work on it. General Ross didn’t tell either his daughter or Banner what the research was really for. They said it was for a nuclear bomb attack on US soil, and so they proceeded accordingly. Banner decided to test the results, rather hastily and misguidedly, on himself with unforeseen results.”

They both listened to Peggy’s explanation in silence, but it was Selvig who finally pieced together what Peggy was saying. “Something happened to Banner with the serum?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, nodding to the screen. “He’s been in hiding for years, probably trying to figure out how to reverse his situation. General Ross has been chasing after him for just about as long. The last known whereabouts for Banner were in Brazil, with Ross hot on his trail. I’m guessing that Banner fled and came to Culver, perhaps because it was safe, perhaps because he needed Betty Ross’ help, perhaps he’s figured out a way of reversing it or wants his old notes, I don’t know. General Ross swears they were all destroyed, but his daughter says he has them, so maybe Banner wants those. My guess is that he got tracked to Culver by the general and he’s trying to capture him there.”

Foster’s horror filled eyes turned to the screen and the destruction there. “But...how is he doing this? Why is he doing this?”

“The side effect of the version of the serum he and Ross had access to, along with another formula they developed, caused a certain...change in Banner. When he gets angry he...well isn’t himself. I don’t think it’s a permanent state with him, but when he is roused, he doesn’t keep control of his temper. That coupled with the super soldier serum...you can imagine what that does.”

Clearly, they could. Foster and Selvig both looked at her in mild awe and terror.

“And General Ross chasing after him and trying to capture him would piss him off.” Selvig sighed, wincing at another explosion flared on the screen. “Damn it, Bruce!”

“So, you are what, sending Iron Man in there,” Foster demanded, turning back to Peggy.

“Only to calm him down...maybe.” Peggy really wasn’t sure what Tony would do. “Banner is a scientist and I’m hoping Stark can reason with him, talk him down. Once he’s calmed down, he’s himself again, from what I understand. We just have to get him there.”

“How,” Darcy asked, dark eyes finally turning from the screen, looking decidedly ill as she did so. It didn’t occur to Peggy till then that Culver might very well be the university the girl attended. Those could be her friends in danger as they spoke.

“We won’t know until we do it.”

It was Selvig who spoke, pushing away from his computer, urgently. “Director Carter, I know Bruce. He’s a brilliant, brilliant man, one of the kindest, funniest, most reasonable men I know. He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“When he is himself, I believe you, but Ross doesn’t want the gentle scientist. He wants the monster.”

“But...if he’s at Culver, he’s there with Betty! Surely, she can get through to him!”

“I hope so.” Her phone was ringing again. “Carter!”

“You see what’s happening in Virginia?” It was Coulson, a hint of urgency in his otherwise placid voice.

“Already on it. I need the quinjet up and going.”

“What is it?”

She frowned, glancing at the television once again. “I think it’s Banner and I think that Ross has found him.”

Coulsons swore, loudly. “If he gets his hands on him, we won’t see Banner again.”

“Not without getting nasty about it, probably not. Ross has proved he will play dirty to keep what he wants. Stark is heading to the scene now, and if nothing else, perhaps Banner can get away while Stark keeps Ross distracted.”

“Ross likes Stark about as much as most people like an enema. You know that’s going to blow up in someone’s face.”

Peggy did. In fact, that was what she was counting on. “As long as it’s Ross’ face, I don’t care. I need him off Banner’s trail long enough for us to get to him. It’s the only way I can keep him safe.”

Whether Coulson agreed or not, he at least got the sense of urgency. “We’ll have the quinjet prepped. There’s nothing else for you to do here, anyway, I’m handling the clean up of the town. What about Foster and her gang?”

“I think we’ve come to an agreement.” Peggy shot a glance back to them. “They’ll be working with you in terms of set up for everything Dr. Foster needs.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Good luck with Banner.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out at the base as soon as I can.” She hung up, turning to all three of them watching her, speculatively. “I’m heading back to see what I can do about this. If you need anything, Agent Coulson can assist you directly.”

Foster nodded, vaguely, dazed by the speed of the growing situation, but Selvig closed his laptop, beginning to unplug its power sources and grab his briefcase. “Did you mean what you said about helping Bruce?”

Peggy watched him pull his things together. “Yes.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” he shot back, startling both Foster and Darcy.

“Erik,” Foster began, but he waved her off.

“I’ve known Bruce for years, Jane. He’s a colleague, a friend, and if he is in trouble, I can at least try to help. If nothing else, I know Betty. Maybe she can trust me in all of this.”

He glanced back to Peggy, resolved in his determination. She wasn’t as positive it would be a good idea, especially given the threat that Banner could pose when he lost control. Selvig was a civilian, untrained in any tactics, and could be as much of a liability as a help. But, he had held his own with the Asgardian attack, and he did know Bruce Banner, while she did not.

“All right,” Peggy finally conceded, not thrilled with the idea, but seeing he had a point. “But you will stay with me and listen to everything I tell you. Banner himself is afraid and on the run, and when he loses control, he’s dangerous.”

“I got it,” he assured her, though Peggy wasn’t sure that he did. “Anyway, I feel I owe it to him that I try to do something to help.”

“Then come along,” Peggy said, gathering her own things and pulling out keys. “We have a quinjet to catch.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony takes over.

“Stark was successful, all right.” Kam was the one who greeted Peggy and Selvig as they landed on top of the SHIELD headquarters in midtown Manhattan, a pencil stuck through her jet black bun and her glasses slightly askew, speaking to the sort of day she had been having. “He managed to piss off General Ross enough he didn’t even pay attention when Banner made off with Betty Ross and disappeared.”

“Made off with Betty?” Selvig behind Peggy spoke up, clearly worried. “Was she in the middle of all that?”

Kam eyed him, her dark eyes flickering to Peggy’s brief nod, continuing despite the questionable clearance. “It’s been a bit of a day to say the least. We are set up in Burk’s lab, using that as our war room for the moment.”

“Good!” Peggy shifted her bag, nodding to companion. “This is Dr. Erik Selvig, he was working with Dr. Jane Foster out in New Mexico. He’s also happens to be a member of the Culver faculty and a close friend of Dr. Ross and Dr. Banner.”

Cassandra blinked, eyeing Selvig before turning her wry amusement on Peggy. “How do you find people like that?”

“I don’t know, a gift?” Peggy made the reverse introductions to the poor, somewhat befuddled scientist. “Dr. Selvig, this is Agent Cassandra Kam. She is my right hand and is one of the lead agents on the Avengers Initiative.”

Cassandra stuck out a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Doctor. Come in, I’ll work with security to get you a badge and clearance.”

“Thank you,” Peggy led the way inside, to the elevators that waited just at the top. “So what do we got thus far?”

Kam spoke as she tapped on her phone, presumably to get the clearance for Selvig. “From what we understand, Banner managed to make his way up here via a land route through South and Central America, up through Mexico and in through Texas. From there, he was able to get to Virginia pretty easily, showing up at Culver sometime in the last few days. Our guess was that he was looking for Dr. Ross.”

“And how did her father find out?” Peggy punched the button to call the lift with more force than it necessarily needed.

“Burk did some snooping around in their communications and discovered that a Dr. Leonard Samson put a call in to Ross. Dr. Samson is known to be an associate of Dr. Ross.”

“Her boyfriend,” Selvig said, dismissively, clearly unimpressed. Peggy and Cassandra glanced at him as he shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, Len is a nice guy, but he’s sort of...Betty’s rebound, I guess is what Darcy calls it. He is a professor in the psychology department, brilliant at what he does, was working with Betty on some of her research, they started going out socially. I don’t think she’s particularly as serious about it as he is. Did you say that you were monitoring General Ross’ email communications?”

Cassandra shrugged, grinning back at Selvig. “Have been for months.”

The doors of the lift opened to let them in, Selvig’s expression contorting as he processed that. “You just...have been spying on the US military and their movements?”

“Well, not all of it, just Ross,” Cassandra replied, clearly unapologetic. “But as Burk says, if they can’t hire the sort of people to keep their servers protected, then it is their fault if they get hacked.”

Peggy wasn’t so sure she agreed with the philosophy, but didn’t disagree with her on the point. “We’ve been monitoring Ross’ movements for months as we have been searching for Banner. It is known he has been looking for him, and he was our biggest lead.”

Selvig squinted one bleary eye at Peggy's way. “To have him join your Avengers?”

“If he wishes.” Peggy ignored the wide-eyed stare of Cassandra, who was clearly surprised that Selvig knew of the Avengers or what it was.

“And if he doesn’t?”

Peggy lifted a shoulder under the strap of her bag. “Then we would help settle him somewhere where he could be left alone, as he wishes.”

Selvig looked as if he wanted to believe her but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “And you wouldn’t lock him up as a medical experiment? Try to clone him into more soldiers for SHIELD’s bidding.”

Peggy could well understand his doubt, especially given Thaddeus Ross’ behavior. “No, we would not. Given the secondary effects of what Banner goes through, I would say trying to replicate his experience is inadvisable. Besides, we had a perfect super soldier once, and the likelihood of us ever finding his like again is practically non-existent.”

The lift doors opened to the floor where Burk’s command center. A loud voice echoed from inside it, one Peggy thought was Burk’s. She glanced to Cassandra. The other woman rolled her eyes, marching to the double doors. “Stark has already been making...an impression.”

“Bloody hell,” Peggy muttered, falling into step behind Cassandra, Selvig in her wake as the doors burst open to the scene of Charles Burk, clutching at his bald head, red-faced, his glasses askew, as one of his subordinates stood by, headphones on, looking torn between the irritated Burk and the nonplussed Tony Stark. For his part, Stark clearly was ignoring the SHIELD agent, having captivated the entire attention of the room as they gaped at the genius, watching as windows winked upen up on Burk’s giant screen as fast as Stark’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

“What in the bloody hell is going on here,” Peggy boomed, glancing at Burk, who threw his hands up in the air in violent exasperation. The other agents in the room all glanced towards Peggy, as if this were some television drama and she were the new character come to entertain them. 

Stark, for his part, didn’t even turn to look back at her, merely calling out to the room in general. “Is that Aunt Peggy?”

Peggy flushed, ignoring the now puzzled and expectant looks in the room, all directed at her. “That is Director Carter while you are on the premises, Mr. Stark, and why are you causing all manner of uproar in Agent Burk’s facility?”

“I wasn’t causing uproar as much as I was taking my own initiative,” Stark replied, never once looking up from either the screen or the keyboard he was fiddling with.

“I told him it isn’t possible,” Burk shot back, mulishly annoyed, his arms crossed over his badly-patterned tie.

“I replied back that it wasn’t possible for him,” Stark countered, blithely flipping through screens, the pucker of an exasperated frown forming. “Honestly, all this money and SHIELD can’t develop some decent displays around this place?”

“We are rather busy trying to save the world,” Peggy shot back, still at a loss as to what Stark was doing there or why Burk was so annoyed. As far as she knew, Burk rather admired Stark and his capabilities. Perhaps it was different when one had to see the actual deal in action. “What are you doing to upset the team, so?”

Stark paused only long enough to lift his shoulders nonchalantly. “Maybe a bit of telecommunication hacking.”

“Or, you know, breaking FCC laws,” Burk retorted, testily.

Stark didn’t even bother to look back at him as he continued. “You are SHIELD! You don’t even operate under the US Constitution and you mean to tell me you haven’t violated a few people’s civil liberties from time-to-time?”

Peggy thought of Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis’ comeback regarding her boss’ seized laboratory property with more of a hint of guilt. “What are you doing that is so illegal?”

Burk answered first, glaring irritably at the back of Stark’s head. “He’s hacking through the major cell phone networks to install phones with illegal software.”

“Technically, it’s legal software, I’m just updating their phones with a bit of an extra something-something.” Stark paused in what he was doing, briefly, seemingly thinking, then nodded, continuing. “It’s pretty easy to do, though it is a pain in the ass to remember the differences between the operating systems…”

“To do what,” Peggy snapped, half afraid she would desperately not like the answer he was going to give.

“Look for Banner,” he said, simply, as pointed a non-answer as he could give.

“That still doesn’t explain how you are doing so.”

He stopped to frown up at her, long enough to realize she was neither joking nor was she going away. He then drew out the longest of sighs as he turned to her fully, crossing his arms across his dark polo shirt and casual jacket, the outline of his arc reactor visible underneath. “Right, so do you know how spectrometers work?”

“No,” she answered honestly, settling to a chair in front of him. She sensed a full, patented Stark condescending speech coming and preferred to be sitting for this. But to her mild surprise, from the doorway, Erik Selvig spoke up, half forgotten in the hoopla between Burk and Stark.

“Spectrometers are tools used to separate various spectrum wavelengths that are often mixed up. It helps differentiate between the waves for better analysis.”

Stark spun in his chair, frowning at Selvig. “Right in one, Mister….”

“Doctor,” Erik shot back, mildly. “Selvig, Erik Selvig, from Culver University.”

The name wasn’t immediately familiar to Stark, but he accepted the man and his credentials easily enough. “You’ve heard of some of the backyard builds for spectrometers using cell phones, right?”

“Sure,” Selvig shrugged, moseying down the steps between the various workstations in Burk’s amphitheater style set up. “Mostly kids playing with the idea of creating ones for field work, usually for light or radiation...”

It clicked with Selvig, then, what Stark was up to. It clicked with Peggy too. “You are programming cell phones to read radiation?”

He seemed delighted they had sussed it out. “Well, specifically I’m reprogramming cell phones to pick up different radiation when people are using their cameras. Sure, cell phones are no match for a good DLSR camera, but now at days everyone has them in a pocket, and when they see something weird, like you know, a rage monster storming across a college campus, they want to take pictures. This algorithm will detect radiation in the background whenever they use it, including levels of gamma radiation. They won’t even know it’s going on. The data will get sent through the networks, collected, and sent to us. We can sift through it in order to help pinpoint the levels that are Banner.”

Burk was right, Peggy couldn’t imagine any of that was even legal. “How much trouble could we potentially be looking at?”

“Ehh, if the government is monitoring phone communications all the time, I’m sure you have a case. Why do you think SHIELD has their fancy phones built off of Stark Industries technology? It's so the Feds and other agencies can't monitor them, because SHIELD, unlike the US government, is both paranoid and smart.”

Peggy’s fingers flew to the one she knew was in her pocket, glancing at Burk who only nodded, vaguely, still uneasy with this. “Have you spoken with a lawyer about the ramifications?”

“No, but you guys might want to look into it. I’m a genius, not a legal expert.”

Selvig stepped up to the plate then, clearly far more curious about the science of Stark’s work. “You are coding people’s cameras to work as spectrometers? How does that work?”

“Fairly easy, most of the ones on the market right now have high end cameras equipped. All you do is do a brief software update and reprogram it that ever time they use it, it scans the spectrum there. We look for the ones that ping at certain levels, which may be off the charts in West Virginia, considering the things I know the government is hiding there.”

Selvig clearly understood what Stark was up to and blinked mildly, first at Peggy, then at Cassandra and Burk. “I mean, in theory it would work if you know the sort of gamma radiation you were looking for. Do you know Bruce’s levels?”

“Actually, I do!” Stark pulled out his own phone with a flourish. “Or at least a range, thanks to Agent Kam’s patient and thorough work. I must say, Director, you do hire good people to work with you, Pepper would kill to have someone this good.”

Cassandra blushed, tugging at her bun, glowing with the praise. Peggy knew Stark’s game and glared at him. “Kill to have her or kill you for trying to charm Kam into it?”

Stark only shrugged with a mild grin as he pulled up data. “You know, the amount of gamma radiation Banner took should have killed him, right? I mean, dropped him dead faster than a Russian spy with an umbrella.”

“It was Dr. Ross’ serum,” Peggy supplied, glancing back to Selvig. “Her primer absorbed the gamma radiation.”

“And I’m guessing the combination of that and whatever bastardized version of Erskine’s serum they were working with mixed together and got us the crazy behemoth I saw today?”

Peggy shrugged. “I suppose. What did you see?” Her vision had been confined to what they showed on the news channels that Darcy had flipped to that morning and that had been limited.

Stark arched one dark eyebrow as he clicked several things on his phone. Up on Burk’s monitors popped up a shaky video feed from what looked like the green at Culver University. Across the swath of emerald grass, military grade weapons dotted it, some with the Stark Industries logo clearly visible, all pointing at a...well...man, Peggy supposed. He was huge, bigger even than Thor, bigger than anyone Peggy had ever seen. Hulking and menacing, his muscles rippled under green skin, rage being directed at his tormentors as he roared in pure, terrifying anger. Most in the room gasped. Burk went horrible pale, as did Selvig and Cassandra. Peggy stared at the screen, blinking, the first full sight of Banner that she had ever received. Most of the other footage she had viewed had been the aftermath of what his change had wrought, never the changed side of him out on full display. She turned to Stark, who was quietly thoughtful beside her.

“That’s what you get with Bruce Banner when he loses his cool,” Stark offered, quietly. “Kind of scary.”

“Yes,” Peggy admitted, swallowing against a primal spike of fear. “But he’s a good man underneath that. Selvig knew him, he can tell you that. He has been used horribly and I’m hoping this could help him...that we could help him.”

Stark studied her for long moments, seemingly torn between amazement and doubt. “You do realize that this man not only tore through a small Army division like they were toy soldiers, but nearly killed a man.”

That part clearly hadn’t be shown on the news. Peggy glanced back to Selvig and Cassandra. “Killed a man?”

“Yeah,” Stark tapped the keyboard, pulling up a window. “Punted this guy across the field, tumbled like he was a rag doll and crashed right into a tree, like something from a cartoon.”

Indeed, on the screen, Banner - or whatever he was when he was in this mode - kicked a soldier clear across the field, sending him flying and tumbling, much as Thor had done the other day. That had nearly killed the now human...alien...god...whatever Thor was, and she supposed it should kill a normal, human soldier. On the video, they could hear Stark swear, loudly, as he spoke to JARVIS in the video and rushed to check out the injured man. Peggy took one look at the battered faced and broken body and knew exactly who it was.

“Blonsky!” She swallowed in horror at the site of the man crumpled on the ground the way he was. “British special forces, called in by Ross. Banner just...broke him like a toy!”

“Yeah, he did,” Stark replied, grimly watching the scene. “But he bounced back up, surprisingly, groaning and screaming, and boy was he pissed, but he’s amazingly not dead.”

That didn’t seem possible, not judging from the footage. “How?”

“Beats me, but he is working for Ross. And while I’m not a man who likes to cast aspersions on other people for being absolute douchebags, we do know that Ross is one, so…”

Behind her, Selvig spoke up. “You were the one who said it with Thor, General Ross has a serum he has been using on all sorts of people. What if this...Blonsky...is one of them?”

It didn’t take much mental calculus to leap to where Selvig was leading. Peggy felt as if she could hear her temper audible snap, her gaze narrowing on the broken man laying on the grass as a fully enraged Banner roared defiantly in the background. All of this...all of this caused by Ross and his desire to recreate Steve Rogers.

“I’m going to murder him,” she grated, her fists curling as she eyed the footage, wanting nothing more than to march over to wherever Ross was at and throttle him senseless. Clearly, her anger was very obvious, as even Stark reached for her in mild alarm, a staying hand on her shoulder.

“Woah, there, Joan of Arc, before you go smiting anyone with righteous fury, we got to find Banner before Ross does. Once he’s contained, we can go find your buddy and I’ll hold him while you punch. Having experienced your right hook, I can say he probably deserves it.”

“What he’s doing, Tony…”

“I know.” He shook her, gently, earning Peggy’s attention in the midst of her ire. “And between you and me, I would gladly blow him to kingdom come for it, but I hear from Senator Stern that murder is bad, and besides, I did the next best thing and destroyed all of his toys.”

Peggy frowned, glancing to the screen again with the weapons clearly marked as being made by Stark's company. “All of them?”

“Most of them. Honestly, what Ross was doing was dangerous and there were people in the crossfire; students, faculty, staff - even his own fricking daughter! I saw Banner in this form, he wasn’t going to be stopped, and Ross was making it worse, so I destroyed them. That would let Banner cool his jets and maybe come out of it, would force Ross to settle the hell down long enough to take this away from civilians, and also I got to piss on his parade, which is always a good day for me as far as Thaddeus Ross is concerned.”

“And Banner got away,” Cassandra called, eyeing Stark sharply, a move she clearly didn’t approve of.

“Yep, because there is no way - and I mean no way - we were going to catch him in that state. Hell, he’d have thrown me around like a chew toy for the fun of it, and my armor isn’t built for that.” Stark glanced at Selvig. “My guess, Banner went to Culver looking for his old data. I think he has been off researching this entire time, trying to find a fix for his situation. Betty Ross was the other lead researcher, she is the only other person who gets what happened. My guess is that Banner went looking for her because he either hit a snag or hit on something that might work and needed her help. Banner got caught, though, someone ratted him out to Ross, and he shows up, guns blazing, because that’s how Thunderbolt likes to roll. He thought he had Banner pinned, but he got away. Now, I’m guessing he’s currently in the vicinity of the DC area, because I doubt he got very far, but we’ve got to figure out where he’s going next.”

Burk, clearly still nettled, pipped up from his corner, more than willing to voice his doubts. “That’s the thing, we don’t know where he’s going next. How do you know for certain your scheme with the cell phones is going to work? He’d have to be somewhere where there were a large enough group of people to have a big enough sample size to pick him up, and enough of them would have to be using their cameras on their phones to register it on your new, illegal network.”

“You’re right,” Stark concurred readily enough, perhaps to Burk’s surprise. “And I’m not going to lie, it’s a long shot, but we don’t have much, do we. I’m banking on the idea that Banner is here trying to figure out his situation, which means he needs scientists, people who have the ability to help him out.”

In one of his sudden shifts of motion and thought, Stark spun his chair to Selvig. “Say you were Banner. You’ve spent the last five years of your life doing research, connecting through networks, anonymously, to find other scientists who might be able to help. Where do the the guys with all the firepower tend to hang out?”

Selvig shrugged, blinking as he tried to follow Stark’s line of questioning. “Colleges and universities, obviously. I’m guessing ones with strong ties to physics and biomedicine. I mean in the US alone there are hundreds, but the east coast has one of the largest concentrations, sure.”

“Anyone who specializes in the sort of work Betty Ross was doing,” Stark pressed.

“Sure, the usual, Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Yale, I think several of the New York schools.”

Stark spun his chair back to Burk. “I’d focus the range then from DC up to the northeast. It's almost summertime, kids are getting out to run around, tourism is picking up, people want to get their pictures taken by some monument or eating some weird food at a hip restaurant. If Banner is around any of those, we can pinpoint him.”

Burk was clearly not mollified. “That could take weeks.”

“He may be hiding weeks.” Stark shrugged, rising from his chair, finally. “If I were Banner and I had that sort of firepower being thrown at me, I’d go into hiding and stay there till the coast was clear. I don’t know, he might, he might not, depends on what kind of time he’s got.”

“It’s not ideal,” Peggy spoke up, finally, seeing both Burk and Stark’s arguments, realizing it was all a gamble. “But it’s what we have right now and it’s better than nothing. Agent Burk, I will take the heat with the US government if they find out how we did it. Considering we’ve been breaking in to their military emails for a while now and following Ross’ moves, how much worse could it possibly get?”

“Which is brilliant, by the way,” Stark pipped up, grinning at Burk. “I mean, sure, I was hacking into the Pentagon in junior high, but I never thought about actually following Ross’ movements through his emails. Well done, sir!”

Burk was caught between being frustrated at Stark’s presumption and being flattered by Stark’s compliments. He finally settled on the flattery, as he gawped, stuttering over his words. “I...er...thank you. I mean, it was fairly simple. The contractor they used to build the platform used an encryption system that SHIELD had broken five years ago, which in fairness, we hadn’t told anyone we broke.”

“Because then you couldn’t spy on them if you did,” Stark smirked, glancing to Peggy. “He’s good! You should keep him around.”

Peggy snorted, standing slowly. “Considering he is a SHIELD employee, I think we will.”

Stark ignored her, holding out his hand to the now much-more appeased Burk. “Sorry for, you know, just taking over your command center, _Star Trek_ bridge set up. Just, you know, easier to do my thing.”

“Umm...no problem?” Burk didn’t sound as if he was sure it was or was not a problem, but wasn’t about to argue with it. He clearly had felt it was more of a problem at the time. 

Peggy resolved to smooth his feelings over later, choosing instead to push Selvig towards Stark. “Erik knows Banner well, or at least did know him. I’m hoping between all of us we can discuss and plan of action in regards to how to approach him.”

Stark eyed Selvig, then Peggy, then the screen, where a freeze frame had stopped on Banner - or whatever he was in that state - roaring to the heavens. “I’m not sure what we can do when he’s like that. He’s not reasonable. Though…”

He drifted off, thoughtful for a second, before whipping around to Selvig. “You said you work with Betty Ross. She was the only thing that seemed to get through to him. I’m guessing that whatever he is in this form, Banner is still in there somewhere. So, let’s chat. I’m not precisely a people person, but I am a science person, so is Banner, maybe...maybe there is something there.”

“I don’t know what I’ve got, but, I can try.” He too glanced towards the frozen image on the screen, sadly. “Bruce is my colleague, a friend, maybe not a close one, but one I respect. Even if he’s in this state, the last thing I want is for him to be captured like an animal for the likes of Betty’s father to exploit.”

“So, let’s get coffee and chat!” Stark clapped a hand on Selvig’s shoulder, familiarly, which clearly startled the scientist. “Aunt Peggy, you got an office, right? Mind if we steal it?”

“Why does he keep calling you ‘Aunt Peggy’,” Burk finally asked, much to Peggy’s annoyance.

“Never mind, I’ll explain later,” she muttered. “Yes, Agent Kam, could you get them set up in there?”

“Got it,” she replied. “Mr. Stark, Dr. Selvig, if you’ll follow me. Try not to touch or take control of anything else.”

“I can guarantee nothing, Agent Kam, but I can say that if you don’t want me playing with it you need to have up better systems.”

Stark’s words echoed Burk’s own in regards to the military’s computer security. Peggy shot him an arched expression, which only made Burk throw up his hands in frustration. “Yeah, I suppose I now have to make things Stark proof.”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t done that already,” Peggy murmured, watching as Kam let the engineer and astrophysicist out before turning her attention fully to Burk again. “All right, start this all from the beginning, what is the situation with Banner. I need all the footage, including whatever Stark got us.”

“It’s going to knock your socks off, all right,” Burk assured her as his team moved back into position, trying to reign in the excitement and chaos left in the wake of Tony Stark’s passing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based what Tony does in this chapter off of real work that is being done on spectrometers and phones! I got the idea off of my friend who is a medical physicist working in the field, so credit to him for it.
> 
> As a note to anyone paying attention to any of the ridiculousness going on in the US at the moment, I took a perverse delight in all the "doctor"-ing at Selvig in this chapter because you know what, he has a Ph.D. in astrophysics and earned it and he deserves to be called that. As a Ph.D. student in Roman history and religious studies, I get what the title "doctor" means and how much work goes into it. I also know the Latin etymology of the word and that it is the appropriate title, so essayists with only a BA can suck it and Erik Selvig, Bruce Banner, Jane Foster, Betty Ross and anyone else who has worked their ass off for a Ph.D. gets called doctor in my story, thank you.
> 
> I HAVE OPINIONS!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy and Selvig chat.

Despite his protestations he could get a hotel, Peggy had put Selvig up in the spare room of her flat, all too happy to do it. After all, she had dragged Selvig from New Mexico with her, peremptorily, to help in the Banner situation, the very least she could do was give him a place to sleep. Whether it was the effects of the excitement of the past few days or the lingering malaise of his night out with Thor, he agreed with little protest to her offer, and Peggy had been rather glad that Sharon and Ashley, her two nieces, had thoughtfully tidied up after their use of the room just a couple of weeks before...it felt like a lifetime, frankly. As it was, both she and Selvig had both collapsed rather soon afterwards. For Peggy, at least, the past two weeks hit her with the force of a sledgehammer as she curled against her pillow and fell into oblivion.

When she awoke in the soft comfort of her own bed, she blinked, first at the alarm clock that read 2:00PM in bright, red colors, then at the photograph of Steve beside it, confused as to where she was or even the day. The blinds over her windows let bright, afternoon sunlight filter in across her white duvet, and she pushed it off, muzzily, scrubbing at her face and feeling the effects of too little sleep and not enough liquids. Groggily stumbling to her en suite, she managed the attempt to make herself look human, hoping that her guest wouldn’t think ill of her for either looking absolutely less than her best or for sleeping in so outrageously late.

Much to her relief, Selvig hardly judged, as he looked as if he had risen not long before Peggy had. He had clearly figured out the intricacies of the coffee maker and the toaster and had made himself breakfast, sipping from a mug. He eyed her, blearily, with a self-deprecating shrug. “I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to what you had.”

“Which isn’t much,” Peggy chuffed, shuffling in to stare at the refrigerator blandly. “But I’m glad there was toast, at least.”

“And coffee.” He held up the plain, generic mug, one that looked not terribly dissimilar to the ones that they had at the automat that Angie had worked at, thick, sturdy, and dependable.

“Well, I may love my tea, but working alongside Americans for so long, I’ve gotten in the habit.”

“Mmmm, that will do it. It was graduate school for me. Astrophysics meant long nights in the lab and then you would have to get up and teach an undergraduate course in the day. I used to drink it cold and straight out of the pot.”

Peggy shivered in disgust, setting about preparing a mug of tea rather than coffee. It was far too late in the afternoon to have one. “Was this while you were studying in England?”

“You know about that, eh?” He sounded ruefully surprised.

“It is SHIELD, Dr. Selvig, we do make it our business to know about a lot of things.”

“I suppose you do.” He clearly didn’t like the idea, but accepted it, regardless. “So you know I was a student in England, then. Do you know of some of my...more political activities?”

Peggy did, but even in reading about his participation in protests nothing had pinged as being overtly outrageous. “I don’t think SHIELD will hold it against you that you protested the policies of your government. We aren’t precisely tied to any of them.”

“See, it’s hard to believe that sometimes, especially when your agents come in and take our work without so much as a by-your-leave.”

Peggy had a feeling Selvig would be sore about that for some time. “My apologies, doctor. I think you’ll find in our line of work things move fast, sometimes faster than we have to think things through or work through official processes. Agent Coulson was acting as he saw fit in the moment, and while it perhaps wasn’t the most ideal method, he did what he thought was needed given the situation and the security around it.”

“Why all the secrecy, though? It wasn’t as if the entire town didn’t know about the blasted hammer.”

Peggy set the electric kettle, a cunning device if she did say so, before answering. “We didn’t know what the hammer was. It wasn’t like anything on Earth, certainly nothing like what we had seen before, and they wanted to take every precaution with it.”

Selvig’s indelicate snort as he munched on his last bites of toast made his opinions very clear. “You say that as if magic items of the gods are found on a regular basis by SHIELD.”

Peggy would have laughed out loud if she didn’t think he might have taken that as an insult. “As a matter of fact, I know of at least one instance where we have found something similar to it. There is a reason SHIELD takes these things seriously.”

That certainly gave him pause, stopping in mid-chew to stare at her as she prepared her cup, waiting on the kettle. He swallowed, sipping from his coffee to wash it all down, before commenting again. “You mean there are more items like Mjølner out there, other artifacts of the gods?”

“I’m saying the world is bigger and more insane than you might have ever imagined,” she clarified. “Take for example what happened to your friend, Banner.”

Her words turned him thoughtful, silencing him for long moments as the kettle came to boil. She finished her tea while making toast, setting about making herself something to eat as the other man finished his coffee. It wasn’t till she settled down across from him at the marble topped island that he spoke again.

“You said you want to help him...Bruce that is.”

“Yes,” she replied, sipping from her tea, a nice Darjeeling from the shop she had found the other week. The tea reminded her very much of her mother.

“Why?”

That was simple and straightforward enough. “Because what happened to him was wrong. Because Thaddeus Ross used him and used his daughter to try and open up Pandora’s box once more and now Dr. Banner has to pay the price, and I don’t believe that is very fair. He’s a once in a generation mind...well, I suppose twice, if you count Tony Stark, who is his own unique, special set of circumstances. Banner could be a great asset, but now how he was used.”

“What, as part of your Avengers?”

“Yes,” Peggy said simply, taking a bite of toast smothered in butter. She would never get over the fact they had all sorts of real butter in the future - and jam!

Selvig ruminated over that for several long moments, ultimately arching a grizzled eyebrow over the mug he was nursing. “And what is it these Avengers will do? Thor had a point, are they to avenge wrongs done to them? To the Earth? Which wrongs do they fight against? Who is the arbiter and who calls the shots? You?”

Those were questions Peggy, admittedly, didn’t have answers for. Frankly, she was certain Fury likely didn’t either. She read the briefs a million times already, the idea of a group of individuals who could fight the fights that others couldn’t, but what that meant and the logistics of it she had yet to hash out. One would think that as the woman who had helped to found SHIELD, she perhaps should have, and it hit her in the moment how foolish she felt in that she hadn’t. 

In fairness, the first time she had done this, she had Howard and Phillips there to help her brainstorm. Now it was just her and Cassandra, who was amazing in regards to logistics, but not strategic in her thinking. Coulson was, but his focus was not on the Avengers as much as it was being Fury’s eyes and ears in the world. Barton and Romanoff were operatives and happy to be in that role. While she was certain Barton would never want or desire to be anything other than that, Romanoff might have potential, if she ever grew comfortable with people who weren’t Fury, Barton or Coulson.

That left Peggy with Stark who...perhaps wouldn’t be horrible to bring into this planning more fully. Of course, she had only just gotten him to agree to join the Avengers, the idea of getting him to take on any more seemed ludicrous. It was, Peggy admitted, a natural inclination. After all, Howard had been who she had turned to in developing SHIELD, but Tony was not his father. Howard had made it clear from the beginning the last thing he wanted was to be the man responsible for SHIELD, as he had too many other things that interested him more, like his own company. His son was a man who liked to be in charge and took it at every chance he got. If she let him have an inch, Stark would take a mile and use that to shoot himself off in his ridiculous suit to go do whatever he wanted, regardless of the others or any plans they might have had. Team player was not precisely in Tony Stark’s make up, and if he sensed weakness in the others, he would throw his hands up in the air and leave to do it himself. If anything, he preferred that, which left Peggy back at square one.

If she were honest with herself, she had rather hoped she would be able to have this sort of conversation regarding the Avengers once Steve was found and awakened. Steve had always had a knack for this, the ability to bring disparate groups together to focus on a common mission, forming a singular core out of of the most unlikely of allies. Peggy had simply just shepherded the lot, running logistics, building a framework, seeing the bigger picture and managing intelligence and directing them to targets. Steve and Barnes had been the pair who thought out the plan of attack, and when it went sideways - and much to Barnes’ chagrin it always went pear-shaped, forcing them to throw out all of their planning - it was Steve who could think them through it. Steve was what Stark was not, the ultimate team player. Which meant when she finally did get the two of them in a room together, it was going to be all kinds of hell getting them to work together. Stark was trying, even to her, and Steve was as recalcitrant when he dug his heels in, which he did from time-to-time. How she would balance this uneven yoke, she didn’t know, and she wouldn’t know until they found Steve and got him awake.

“Director?”

Peggy blinked at Selvig, whose initial question still remained unanswered. She set aside her toast, wrapping her slightly sticky hand around her mug instead, trying to formulate some answer out of the rabbit hole of worry she had just thrust herself down. “For now, yes, I’ll be the one running point with the Avengers, though I will be working in conjunction with SHIELD.”

“Which then begs the question of how will you know when and how to use the Avengers? No offence, Ms. Carter, you seem nice enough, your intentions seem good, at least with Thor and Bruce, but what makes you the person who gets to decide what is and isn’t a big enough emergency you call these people together?”

Peggy could have whipped out a long list of credentials for him, if she wanted, but she doubted that her work at Bletchley Park, with the SOE and SSR and the creation of SHIELD would have gotten her much farther than the nut house with him. In truth, without that, she didn’t have much of reputation at all to stake out leadership of this new, unorthodox group. So, she fell back on what she had been thinking of these last long weeks, months, year-or-more since she took a tumble through quantum space and landed in this wonderland, the Avengers in her lap.

“My plan for the Avengers is to create not just a singular team, but an entire organization centered on just this. The focus everyone has is on a team, but really, wars aren’t won with just one crack squad of people, but an entire group of them, all working on different parts, working in unison to affect that change. This is where the likes of Jane Foster comes in, perhaps yourself if you wish at some point. As Thor has now shown us in no uncertain terms, the world is a much, much bigger place than any of us ever imagined it to be. There is an entire universe out there, and some, like Asgard, might be friendly to us. Others might not. We need to find a careful balance between opening ourselves up to each other in honesty and peace while recognizing that we have to do so carefully, as there are others who would seek to undermine that for their own advantage and gain.”

Not unlike the entire international political situation she had grown up in, Peggy thought, ruefully. How strange to consider, a hundred years on, she would have to call upon that experience of a growing, globally-minded world and the rise of nationalism and interconnectivity and use that in a way she would never have dreamed of in the 1930s and 40s. 

As strange as it was to her, it was clearly no less strange to Selvig, who looked dubious at best. “And you think a handful of people with, what, super powers, are going to save us from the likes of a true threat if it posed itself?”

Peggy shrugged, sipping her tea. “A team of extraordinary people, I believe is what Director Fury called it.”

“Extraordinary, unremarkable, what does it matter in the end. You saw what that...thing did in New Mexico. It nearly wiped out the town!”

“Yes and Thor handled it readily enough when he was...well...himself.” Peggy wasn’t unaware that Selvig had a point, a very valid one at that. “And with the Avengers he won’t be alone.”

“If he ever returns back from Asgard.” He had that point too, one that neither had wanted to mention too loudly around Jane Foster. “He’s yet to get back, which either means something went horribly wrong or the Einstein-Rosen bridge mechanism failed, but whatever the case, he’s not here, which means we can’t rely on him.”

“True,” Peggy conceded, wishing he wasn’t right. “But we do have Stark.”

That clearly didn’t impress Selvig. “Who is brilliant, I grant you that, but he’s a spoiled brat with a homemade suit of armor.”

“You have to admit, for a homemade suit of armor, it is pretty impressive.” Peggy felt the need to defend him on some level. “He is a weapons manufacturer.”

“I thought that was in the past. He got out of it.”

His company did, but she wasn’t so sure Stark had. But Peggy wasn’t about to quibble on the point. “Besides, he won’t be completely by himself. My hope is that we can convince Banner, if we can get through to him.”

“You mean the same man that the US military had just lied to and stalked for years in the hopes of using him as a weapon? How likely do you think he will agree to work for your secret organization if he wasn’t willing to work for Ross’? I’ve known Bruce since he was an undergraduate student. A brilliant mind, one that could have done anything - found the cure for cancer, brokered world peace, maybe he would have found the Einstein-Rosen bridge, who knows! He was doing things back then that had research professors falling all over themselves to get him on as one of their graduate students. All he ever wanted to do back then was to be in a lab, studying, working to find something that would make the world a better place, a good place. He didn’t want to fight in wars or destroy university campuses! That...that was all Thaddeus Ross. And now you think you can convince him to turn into a...what? A soldier? A sentinel? Some sort of guardian? You aren’t even sure you can control that...whatever it is he turns into. Stark was even scared of it. What makes you think he will listen to you or even want to?”

They were all valid points, very valid ones, ones Peggy had considered whether she wanted to or not. After his experience with Thaddeus Ross, Bruce Banner had utterly no reason to trust anyone who might be working for a government-like establishment, especially knowing that they would all want him for one thing and one thing only - not his mind, or his intellect, or his capabilities, but for the monster that lurked inside of him.

Peggy segued the conversation, briefly. “You know the day I met with Betty at the conference? You know the one thing she said to me was that Bruce was the sort of man who wanted to save the earth, that he protested against things like the bomb and warfare, and that the reason he worked on Ross’ project at all was that he believed he was saving people from something that, should it be unleashed, would kill them in horrible ways. There is that part of Banner that wanted - has always wanted - to protect those who are hurt and vulnerable. That is all I want to do as well. And yes, perhaps we are an organization that on its surface doesn’t look that different than Thaddeus Ross’, but I’m not him, and the Avengers aren’t about fighting private wars and saying that it’s for the global good. It is about something bigger than that and that is the part I am hoping to speak into.”

Selvig studied her, impassively, for long moments, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to figure out. “You really do believe that, don’t you?”

Peggy swallowed a wave of irritation at Selvig’s continued skepticism, wondering what he had encountered that made him so doubtful of SHIELD and of her intentions. “If you think I am some wide-eyed, naive optimist…”

“Naive, no. Wide-eyed...perhaps not so much. Optimist, that you are.” He chuckled, frowning at his now empty mug and setting it aside. “It’s not often I meet people who work in your business who are so unapologetic or fervent in their belief that what they're doing is right and good. Certainly, when I do, it usually isn’t a good thing.”

“And you assume I’m what, a fundamentalist out to toe the SHIELD party line, brainwashed into thinking it's perfect?”

“Well,” he shrugged, leaning back from the counter somewhat. “I will say that I’ve been around long enough to know that not even SHIELD is perfect, and I’m sure if you dig deep enough you’ll find even its seedy underbelly. Every organization like it has one.”

He was by far not the first person she’d heard that seed of doubt from. Sharon had voiced her own misgivings, Stark had a truckload of them, and Peggy couldn’t tell if it was merely disagreements for directions taken by the agency or worry about the fact that SHIELD by its nature was secretive in a way that left many unsettled. Certainly, Coulson was a staunch supporter, as was Barton and Romanoff, none of those three struck her as people who would stand for an organization who was unfair or unjust.

“Why are you so wary of SHIELD?” She decided to put it out there, bluntly.

“They are a spy organization beholden to no one but the UN, loosely at best, and that only through a World Council. They operate on their own charter, under their own terms, and they have little oversight over them, save a group of people from some of the most powerful countries in the world with the sort of clout that could decide to make trouble for everyone if they wished. I came of age in the 60s and 70s, when the Cold War was in full swing and the Watergate scandal was a thing. I know how men and women such as that can abuse their power. Bruce is just one example of it. They justify all of it by saying that it’s for the ‘greater good,’ that people will get hurt if they don’t, that they need to protect against the bigger threat, but in reality it is usually a simple of game of they like power and control and they don’t like someone else that isn’t them having it.”

The disadvantage of having skipped through decades of time was that Peggy hadn’t lived through these periods, these experiences, and thus didn’t have this cynical worldview of it all. She had faced very different times, harder times, a depression and world wars, events that had destroyed the fabric of the comfortable world she had lived in and turned them upside down. And yet even in those dark times, men and women had stood up and stood together to try stop those forces of darkness, to try to bring people together to stand against it...people like Steve, she supposed. And perhaps Selvig was right on one level, she was still operating with the perspective of a woman who had lived through all of that, but hadn’t lived through the outcomes and aftermath of the hyper-vigilant, fearful, worried years of the Cold War and all the ugliness that precipitated from it. She had only seen the earliest beginnings of it, the return of the Red Scare from her childhood, the wariness with which everyone eyed each other, and the fear of the word “communist.” She hadn’t had to live through hearings or diplomatic wars, nor through the paranoia of not knowing what your enemy could be doing and the fear that could send any government, even the US one, to justify any means necessary to ensure national safety.

“Perhaps you are right,” she conceded, quietly, picking at the remains of her toast. “The world is not as simple, black-and-white, cut-and-dry as we would like it to be. But I do know that what I’m trying to build here isn’t that. The people I’m pulling in, I am pulling them together because at their heart, they are good people, no matter what others think of them.”

Selvig regarded her levelly. “Being good people doesn’t always make it work out right.”

Peggy bit down a spike of irritation at the scientist and his continued pessimism. “Why are you agreeing to work with SHIELD, then, if you don’t trust us?”

Here, he at least graced her with a self-deprecating grin. “Well, I am a scientist and I go where the money and research is. And just because I am cautious doesn’t mean I won’t do it. I suppose I just want to make sure of what I’m walking into, as well as Jane.”

Peggy felt that was fair. “I hope then, in future, you will always continue to keep me honest.”

“It’s what I do.”

Finishing the last of her toast, they fell into companionable silence as Peggy tidied up. She’d no sooner washed the cups and plates than the sound of buzzing from the counter heralded an incoming call. She grabbed it, shooting Selvig an apologetic look. “Carter!”

“Director, we got a hit.” Agent Burk was on the other end, an edge of excitement in his voice.

“Already?” That had gone faster than she had expected. “Where?”

“Harlem, if you can believe it.”

On instinct, she turned towards the wide expanse of windows that looked north, more or less vaguely in the direction of where Harlem sat, tucked between Morningside Heights and Washington Heights, by the Hudson. Her first thought was that like all of Manhattan, it was crowded...very. Her second though kept tumbling out in a terse syllable. “Why?”

“Interesting that,” Burk spoke in the distracted manner he had when she knew he was filtering data and speaking to her at the same time. “A combination of forces, if you will. In our scanning of Thaddeus Ross’ emails, we found that he was monitoring his daughter’s communications, which is about as classy as you think it sounds. The IP for one of them pinged locally, and using Stark’s rather ingenious and still very, very, very illegal software update we were able to track them down. Banner is...I guess normal again, but his gamma signature is off the charts. Anyway, he and Betty Ross made their way to Harlem an hour ago and have been holed up there ever since. There is a small college up there and a scientist who Stark thinks Banner has been working with.”

Peggy spun to regard Selvig. “And he’s not moving?”

“No, but we will need to move in fast.” An urgent note crept into Burk’s otherwise pleasant tone. “We just got a hit off of Ross’ communications, he’s figured it out too. He’s got a team heading there now.”

Peggy swore, inelegantly, running a frantic hand through her pulled back hair. “We need SHIELD forces in there now, contain him if we must. Where is Stark?”

“Off to get his suit. He wasn’t about to meet with Banner without it, for obvious reasons.”

Which meant he was nowhere close to get to the scene easily. Peggy considered, thinking on her feet. “Right, see who we can scramble to get up there before Ross does.”

“You know a lot of our New York team is still out in Queens.”

“Just do what you can, see if Braxton can help manage. We may want to warn the NYPD and the mayor's office again.” She had a feeling that Mr. Mazza, the emergency management director that she had spoken to just the week before, wasn’t going to be thrilled. “If we can get to Banner, speak reason to him…”

“You found Bruce?” Selvig was immediately alert at that. Peggy held up a hand to him as Burke on the line continued.

“Kam is here, I’ll have her run interference for you with the agencies. I’ll monitor things on the ground. Do you want to come here or meet over there?”

Peggy considered, knowing that while SHIELD’s Time Square HQ was not far away, it wasn’t in the direction of Banner. “How far is Stark out?”

“His driver said he’d get them there as fast as he could, but honestly, it is likely 15 minutes just to get to Stark Tower. Do you know how long it takes for him to suit up?”

“No.” Probably too long. “We will do what we can. Send me the location, I’ll meet SHIELD personnel there. I’ll take Selvig with me.”

“Kam still hasn’t gotten his clearance.”

“I’ll argue it with Fury later,” Peggy impatiently snapped. “Send me the location and get the SHIELD forces there.”

She hung up, spinning to Selvig who was already standing up, worry in his eyes. “They found Banner in Halem.”

Selvig was surprised and confused. “Why Harlem?”

Peggy shook her head, already turning to the hallway and her own room. “There is some scientist there, they think Banner is working with him. We have to move quickly, we aren’t the only ones who know where he is.”

What she didn’t say to Selvig, but what rose to the forefront of her concern nonetheless, was that Harlem was a horrible place for Banner to be if Thaddeus Ross provoked him. What little she had seen of him, she imagined it in the close confined of the crowded, brownstone neighborhoods, and for not the first time in the last week felt worry and fear rise to the fore again. For the first time since she stepped through time, she had to wonder if these Avengers were a good idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and/or Happy Winter Holidays to all of you who have been kind enough to reach my works over this last year. Your lovely comments, your enjoyment, and your thoughtfulness has been nothing but appreciated. Thank you!


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy meets Bruce Banner - sort of.

“We have a problem.” Cassandra was blaring in Peggy’s ear as a SHIELD armored car attempted to make it up the west side of the city to Harlem in the middle of early evening traffic.

“What,” Peggy shot back at her right hand, perhaps more sharply - and far less collected - than she might normally have otherwise.

“Ross got to his daughter and Banner first.” She could hear the apology in Cassandra’s voice.

Despite the curse that lingered on her lips, Peggy bit it back, unwilling to put her colleague and friend to the full blast of her temper. That didn’t stop her from mildly kicking the seat in front of her in irritation. “How did he get in there?”

“Burk thinks Ross knew it was a target for Banner, but we aren’t sure. He got there before Stark could finish suiting up, and you know how well Ross and Stark get along. For once Stark listened and figured the better part of valor was to hold off and see what you had to say about it.”

“Frankly, I’m of a mind to tell him to pick that fight.” Peggy glowered sourly as they raced as best as they could through stop and go traffic, the agent manning the wheel more confident than Peggy would ever feel maneuvering the way she was. Selvig sat quiet and wide-eyed beside her, either respectfully silent or terrified for his life, it was unclear which. “Tell him to hold back till I get there.”

“Let’s see how well he listens to that idea,” Cassie muttered, clearly not hopeful, getting off the line to scramble to keep up with the situation.

Selvig beside her eyed Peggy’s face and likely stormy expression apprehensively. “What wrong?”

“Ross got to his daughter and Banner first, they are likely in Army custody right now.”

Selvig, who was unaware of the history of Peggy’s dealings with Thaddeus Ross, and who had no idea of the deal that she brokered with him, was obviously puzzled with this new development. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Peggy heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to have to go and pick a fight.”

It took long moments for Selvig to digest that. “With Ross?”

“Unfortunately!" 

This had been the situation she had hoped to avoid. Once Ross got Banner in his clutches the likelihood of her or SHIELD ever getting him away was considerably smaller. Ross had been dancing around the matter with excuses for months now. He would simply claim he didn’t know what she was talking about and would hide the scientist away somewhere, forcing Peggy to either burn every bridge that SHIELD had with the US Army to figure out where Banner was and extract him - a proposition that she doubted Fury would agree to - or force Peggy’s hand and make her go public with Ross’ less than sanctioned and legal human experiments, which would blacken the eye of the US military establishment and make them even more reluctant to give Peggy or SHIELD what they wanted in the future. If she were going to force Ross’ hand, she would have to do it now and do it in such a way he feared for his career and future endeavors more than losing Banner and his potential to turn into a monster.

“I am sure his daughter will be fine and released without incident,” Peggy continued, distractedly, as they continued to whip through traffic. “Banner is the one I worry about. I am sure he will be thrown into a black hole somewhere off the books and become the centerpiece of Ross’ efforts to revive Project: Rebirth into something horrible and monstrous.”

Sevig’s horror at that idea was clear. “Couldn’t SHIELD do something to stop him?”

“Not without creating a fracture in the intelligence community, one I doubt either side wants.”

Annoyance flicked with Selvig. “So, what, you are just going to let him take off with Bruce?”

“No,” she replied simply. “Not if I can help it. I just need to figure out how to prevent it from happening.

As fate would have it, something else stepped in to prevent Ross from making off with Banner instead.

The agent at the wheel, a woman whose name Peggy had missed, glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Director, we are nearing our objective. Ross’ team is still on the ground, how would you like us to enga….”

The poor woman got no further before a large obstruction formed in front of their large, black, armored SUV, causing her to slam on the brakes and setting the car spinning, crashing into the other vehicles around it in an effort to avoid whatever it was that leapt out in front of them. The agent cursed, as did Peggy and Selvig in the back, rattling around like beans in a dried pod. Around them was the sickening sound of other cars cracking into one another, of horns blaring, and the smell of burning tire on asphalt, as they finally came to a stop, canted slightly sideways in the middle of the street.

“What the...Director, Selvig, are you all right?” The agent spun in her seat, still seat-belted in to check on them. Peggy, breathless and bruised, nodded, glancing to Selvig who looked much the same, face pale as he stared past Peggy’s shoulder. Confused, she turned to see the object of his attention, and found what it was that had caught the agent short and sent them into their traffic spin.

What the hell was that creature?

It looked less like something out of reality and more like a nightmare, something cooked up for the sort of scary films that Peggy tended to avoid. It’s skin was a mottled and shiny slick, grayish-green, stretched over a powerfully build, looking almost reptilian with its protruding rib cage and fin of sharp, boney spines up its back. Its powerful hands were built like hammers, clenching tightly, as preparing to swing. For a wild, panicked moment, Peggy’s shocked brain wondered if these weren’t the aliens that Scott Lang had warned her about, come to invade Earth finally, and she wasn’t prepared, wasn’t anywhere near prepared.

“What is it?” The agent's voice in the front seat was barely a whisper in clear terror.

“I don’t know,” Peggy replied, staring at it before it turned, taking off the opposite direction from them, sending cars on the street screeching and flying, ripping up light poles and traffic lights, leaving havoc and destruction in its wake. People screamed, tires screeched, and already in the distance Peggy could hear sirens wailing towards the chaos.

“Not again,” she muttered, numb fingers working for the phone she had in her pocket. Unsurprisingly, it was buzzing before she could even get it up, with none other than Tony Stark’s name on the screen.

“Stark,” she barked, half breathless, as the creature stormed through Harlem ahead of them. “Please tell me you are seeing this.”

“Where are you?”

Peggy looked at map settings in the console of the SUV. “125th Street, near Morningside Drive.”

“Hold tight, I’m heading your way.”

Peggy glanced at the snarl of cars and confused, frightened drivers and pedestrians, all gathered in the street watching in horror. “I don’t think we can go anywhere if we wanted to.”

“What you got, a standard SHIELD SUV?”

“Yeah,” she replied, confused as to why he was even asking.

“Hold tight.”

Without warning, the SUV itself lurched upwards. On the ground outside, people gasped and pointed at something above the vehicle as it floated, upwards, scraping and crunching against the vehicles that had been forced into it during its spin out. The agent behind the wheel yelped, as did Selvig, as Peggy looked to the padded, gray lining of the roof, knowing instantly who was up to this madness. “Tony?”

“Going to get you out of this and to a safe spot not far from here.” Outside of the window, Peggy could see the car floating upwards, people gapping to see it, several of them cheering and screaming “Iron Man” in delight. The other two occupants clung to their seats, watching nervously out of the window as they rose, slowly, floating above the street and towards what looked like a car park structure a block over. Carefully, they flew higher, over the tops of trees and the old, brownstone structures, till they came to rest, lightly, on the top of the gray, concrete structure, being settled, gently on top of it. Despite the damage done in their collision, nothing else seemed to break, as the shocks creaked with the full weight of the car coming back down to rest on them as they touched the concrete surface.

As soon as Peggy was sure it was safe to climb out, she did, flinging off the seat belt and scrambling out of the car to see Stark alighting to the ground beside them. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him in his suit, but it was the first time she’d seen him with his helmet. The full effect was...well, more than a bit intimidating. While she had at least seen that much, neither the agent or Selvig had seen him at all, and she could hear Selvig mutter something in what she presumed was Norwegian as he climbed out of the vehicle behind her.

“Thank you for flying Stark Airlines,” he quipped as his helmet flipped back away from his face. “We know you have your choice of airline in the middle of a crisis, but we are glad you flew with us.”

“How many commercial airlines have you flown,” Peggy teased, still breathless and shaken, but finally pulling her wits about her.

“Mmmm, perhaps slightly more than you have, judging from your judicial use of SHIELD’s quinjets.” Stark’s joking was underlined by grim worry. He nodded in the direction of where the creature had run. “Subject headed that way, more or less, and from what I can tell is determined to destroy the hell out of Harlem for shits and giggles.”

“What is it?” Selvig, now free of the car, finally yelped he came up beside the to look in the direction Stark indicated. In the distance they could hear the rumble of an explosion and a gout of flames from somewhere.

“I was hoping you guys could tell me what it was.”

“We don’t know,” Peggy admitted, still too startled to make sense of any of it. “We were here to try and intercept Ross before he made off with Banner, but that thing came out of nowhere.”

“Ross?” Stark snorted, pointing in the direction of bright lights floating overhead. “He had a helicopter and was peacing out minutes ago. I was going to see if I couldn’t walay him a bit when this thing popped up. Mr. Fugly down there started causing holy hell and that’s when I found you. I’ll go see if I can intercept and maybe stop...it?”

“We don’t even know what it is.” Peggy stared in the distance, wondering how in the hell anyone could slow that creature down. “That’s a behemoth, Tony, it could tear you apart!”

“Maybe! I’ll give you on scene reports.” Without any further ado, Stark flipped his visor down again and took off, arcing like a comet into the night sky. Peggy watched him go, Selvig beside her, quietly impressed.

“He made that suit,” Selvig asked, voice barely more than a whisper above the ringing of sirens and cries of people.

“Yes,” Peggy shot back, turning to the equally stunned agent. “I need an earpiece and to be patched into the communication network, now.”

The woman blinked, nodded, then dove back into the battered SUV, handing Peggy the ubiquitous SHIELD communication device. She tucked it into her ear, turning it on as a cacophony of different voices sprang to life. Harlem was clearly on fire right now, being torn to shreds by whatever that creature was. Police were on scene, but several cars had already been destroyed and men were down. SHIELD forces were on scene but unsure on how to proceed.

“Hold off for now,” Peggy barked, realizing she could see nothing from up here. “Do any of you have a visual?”

One lone voice, a man, spoke up rather tremulously. “I don’t know if I want to get close enough for a visual, Director.”

“Right,” Peggy muttered in mild exasperation, turning to the agent on scene. “Can I get patched to a telephone network?”

“Sure,” she nodded, motioning for Peggy’s phone. Peggy turned it on and handed it over, as the other woman twiddled first with it, then with the earpiece, a loud voice announcing “connected” on the other end of the line.

The agent handed the phone back with a reassuring smile. “Dial in your number and it will come in through your earpiece.”

“Wonderful,” Peggy murmured, fingers flying on the glass in a way that had come familiar to her since she first landed in this strange future with these wonderful devices. The phone rang in her ear, to her mild delight, and after the first the voice of JARVIS greeted her.

“Miss Carter, I can presume you are on scene with Mr. Stark in Harlem then?”

“You are correct, Mr. Jarvis." Peggy moved towards the edge of the car park and looking out towards where a helicopter hovered. “I need to get through to Mr. Stark, to see what’s been going on.”

“Well,” JARVIS temporized, a little abashedly. “I can say it hasn’t been going quite as expected for him as I believe he thought it would.”

There was an explosion and the streak of something small in the distance. Peggy watched as whatever it was landed, hard, on the top of a building.

“Damn it,” she muttered, turning to Selvig. “I’m heading in there. You stay here.”

“What?” Selvig yelped, much at the same time as the agent, who look scandalized Peggy would go in. On the other end of her earpiece she could hear JARVIS concur with the broader sentiment.

“Miss Carter, that creature just swatted Mr. Stark like a fly across a city block. I’m not sure you are prepared to be down in this.”

“Are you going to be able to stop me, Mr. Jarvis?”

There was a beat of silence on the other line, then. “I’ll let Mr. Stark know you are on your way.”

Peggy glanced at the other two. “Stay here! I’ll let you know when it’s all clear.”

Selvig, in a fit of either bravery or stupidity, stubbornly shook his head. “I’m coming with you.”

Peggy paused in the act of checking her sidearm. “Dr. Selvig, I asked you here to help me with Dr. Banner, not get yourself killed.”

“What and let you go in there by yourself?”

That caught even the female agent by surprise, who book both affronted and amused. Even still, she spoke up. “He’s not totally wrong, ma’am.”

“I know, but I need you to get to the other SHIELD forces to help coordinate a perimeter around the area. Get all civilians out, only let in emergency services and only at a careful distance. We don’t even know what that thing even is.”

“But you can’t go in there by yourself,” the agent insisted, stubbornly, this time without the bravado of Selvig. “You at least need someone to watch your back.”

“Agent, I have taken care of myself in much more harrowing circumstances than this.”

The woman glanced out in the direction of something else exploding, then back at Peggy, doubtfully. “I don’t think even with your experiences, ma’am, you’ve ever had to face anything quite like this.”

It was true, but Peggy didn’t have to admit it. “I’ll be on the line with Stark. Patch in to me if you need.”

She turned for the stairs in the corner, making her way as quickly as speed would allow. To her frustration, Selvig was only a step or two behind. She glowered at him as she opened the door to the stairs, blocking the path before he could follow. “Stay put, Dr. Selvig. Last thing I need is for you to get killed, too.”

“You heard her! You need backup!”

“You’re a scientist! What are you going to do, throw data at it?”

Selvig wasn’t to be deterred, clearly. “That thing is near the spot where Ross found Betty and Bruce, right? What if he’s someone else who has had the serum Bruce did, someone else who had the same sort of adverse reaction to it?”

It hadn’t even occurred to Peggy, at least not yet, that was what they were dealing with. Selvig’s hypothesis made a horrible and logical amount of sense. “Blonsky?”

“If Bruce was here seeing this Dr. Stern, perhaps they were dealing with a sample of whatever it is that made Bruce what he is.”

The logistics of that and how Blonsky may or may not have managed it were lost on Peggy, but the idea that this was indeed him made sense, given that Peggy already suspected he’d been given some sort of super soldier serum. Still, to think that the horror they saw rampaging down the street was once the very human soldier horrified her, not just because of what little she had seen about the rage of Banner in his transformation, but for the sheer monstrousness of the creature itself. Abraham Erskine had always said that the serum had the tendency to bring out a person’s truest self - perhaps the rampaging monster was the truest self of this Blonsky person.

Eyeing Selvig, Peggy tapped her earpiece. “Mr. Jarvis, what is Mr. Stark doing now?”

“Determining a new course of strategy. It seems that the creature he encountered at Culver University has also arrived on the scene to engage with this entity.”

“Banner got away?” That was something she hadn’t expected and was an added level of confusion into an already dangerous situation. “Mr. Jarvis, put me through into Stark.”

On the other end of the line, she could hear a yelp and curse, before Stark’s voice cut in, full force. “Bit busy over here, Peggy. I got two of your Saturday-morning-movie monsters doing a full on rumble in the streets of Harlem and I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

Peggy glanced to Selvig, then turned, making her way down the concrete and metal steps. “Selvig suggested the other one is Blonsky, the soldier who nearly died down in Virginia.”

“Seriously?” Stark sounded as incredulous and alarmed by that as Peggy had felt. “What the hell…”

“Don’t know, but if that is him we may need Banner to slow him down. Don’t antagonize him!”

“I’m not doing anything! That thing's love tap compromised my armor integrity by 25% in a single swat.”

“Is anyone else doing anything?” She pounded down the last set of stairs, bursting out onto the street below where chaos already reigned.

“There is a helicopter giving chase, but...Jesus!”

Peggy, who had already turned up the sidewalk and towards the action, Selvig in tow, saw clearly what Stark meant. Floating just above the buildings was a helicopter, its lights shining down on the scene...or it would have been, had the creature not grabbed onto it, as if it were a children’s toy. Her heart in her throat, Peggy stopped dead in the street, littered in debris and destruction around her, staring up as the creature was bodily tackled by Banner, who threw himself headlong into him. The two creatures wrestled, tussling as the helicopter spun and faltered, out of control, careening out of the sky.

Peggy could only yelp at the one person she knew who could help the situation. “Tony, helicopter!”

“On it!” Out of nowhere he swooped in, grabbing what he could of the falling aircraft. Pulling the axis of the top rotar, he pulled up, hauling the aircraft to the next building to set it, neatly, on top of it. Meanwhile, the two titans tore at one another, smashing from the rooftop to the street, cracks forming in the asphalt as the ground vibrated beneath Peggy and Selvig’s feet.

“I wouldn’t get any closer,” Selvig cautioned, snagging Peggy’s shoulder, protectively. She was of a mind to shake it off, but realized he wasn’t wrong. As the two creatures grappled, the ground shook as if bombs were going off, with the pale creature they surmised was Blonsky turning a roundhouse kick at Banner’s chest, sending the hulking green man flying into a building that Peggy sincerely hoped was empty.

“Stark,” she muttered into her earpiece. “We need to lure them out of here somehow?”

On the other end of the line, she imagined she just did hear Stark scoff in disbelief, slightly. “You got any brilliant ideas for doing that that don’t involve putting people in danger? Because I don’t.”

Peggy tried to think. “Maybe lead them through Morningside Park and out to the Hudson?”

“Sure, if there weren’t people there, but as it is I’d have to convince them to do it and they are pretty intent on killing each other. If I get in the middle of that, I’ll be collateral damage.”

He had a point, his one attempt at trying to control the other creature already had sent him careening into one of the buildings. Peggy couldn’t be sure what would happen to him or his armor if one of the two of them got their massive hands on him. “We can’t just let them continue to go at it here, they would tear the neighborhood apart!”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” For the first time in their short acquaintance, Tony Stark sounded truly confounded by a situation presenting itself to him. “I mean, no conventional weapon is going to touch this, and anything else is too dangerous in this populated of an area, people are going to get hurt. And I don’t think there is any talking reason to either of them.”

Neither did Peggy, who watched as the pale creature stood tall, eyeing Banner darkly, a glittering, dark grin shining in the lights of the Apollo Theater’s bright marquee. Without warning, he pivoted, and within three steps was up the side of the building where Stark had placed the faltering helicopter. Banner seemed to realize what he was up to and charged after him.

“Stark,” Peggy yelped!

Selvig’s fingers on her shoulders gripped tightly, voice desperate. “That’s Betty up there!”

Peggy turned her gaze to the roof, three stories up, where she could see the terrified faces of Betty Ross, her father, and a pilot, scrambling away from the edge frantically as the creature’s giant paw clamped onto the edge, hauling himself up. With a power that defied logic, he leapt up onto the roof, much as a normal person would clear a fence, and landed on its top, trapping the hapless trio in the corner. Below, she could see Banner, fearful and desperate and more than a bit determined, beginning to scale the now crumbling facade, as Stark darted above, hovering in worry over all of it, like a chrome covered gnat in comparison to these giants.

“What’s going on?” Peggy eyed his position and that of the Rosses and their pilot, torn between worry that the creature would force the three on the roof towards its edges, and Stark holding just above, far enough away he wasn’t easy to snag, but just close enough he could swoop in if needed.

“I think Fugly is trying to get Banner to do something stupid.” Stark’s voice was taut with concern. “JARVIS, we got anything that may knock him back a few feet?”

Peggy could hear the cool and business-like tone of the AI enter into the conversation. “The missiles you enabled might knock him back but I don’t believe they will knock him down. If anything, I fear they will only encourage him to either attack the bystanders or launch himself at you.”

“I’m harder to get, but I get your point.” Stark sounded torn between taking those chances and playing it safe. 

Meanwhile, Banner had made his way up the building. Peggy could guess by the cautious set of the hulking Banner’s bare shoulders that he too saw the predicament, and whether or not he understood it, like Stark, he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“JARVIS,” Stark muttered on Peggy’s earpiece. “Think we can hit Fugly in a way that Green Meanie can knock him out of the way?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Let’s see how this goes.”

Before Peggy could get Stark’s name off her lips, he fired, rockets knocking the creature in the back of his shoulders, pitching him forward towards Banner, who roared, taking the advantage, throwing himself bodily at the creature again, skidding with him across the rooftop and down off the other side, pitching them both over as they landed on the street again with a sickening thud. 

Peggy pulled from Selvig, rushing to the middle of the street, amid the carnage of torn and shredded police vehicles to better view the aftermath. Banner lay, sprawled, face down, as the other creature rose, shaking its vile, bald head between the glabrous crests around his ears. Rising, he scowled down at Banner, eyeing the ground around him, Peggy guessed for some weapon to use. She glanced up towards the rooftop, where above, Stark had grabbed the Rosses in each arm, with the pilot grasping him around his neck, flying off the roof and back towards the parking garage and relative safety. It occurred to her, then, that while Stark was seeing to the occupants of the helicopter, she and Selvig were all alone and painfully exposed there, in the middle of a Harlem street, with two monsters preparing to battle once again.

“We need to take cover." She grabbed Selvig’s arm. Already, the other creature had found a downed concrete post attached to a heavy, iron chain, broken off at some point and laying in the street. Cooly, he wrapped the chain around his gnarled, boney fingers, watching as Banner stood, wobbling somewhat and shaking off the effects of his landing, squinting in the distance where Stark had landed, oblivious to the creature behind him pulling the concrete up with a scraping sound and beginning to swing it around like a slingshot, his aim clear.

“Bruce, look out,” Selvig shouted in warning, rushing forward as if he could do anything. It was good enough, with a fluid grace belying his sheer size and bulk, Banner turned, swinging around to both block the incoming weapon and spin out of its way. The creature overshot, hitting the pavement instead, spinning as he did with the sort of move that showed he had some sort of fight training, as he recovered and charged for Banner. Peggy stood with Selvig, mute and fearful as to what to even do as the creature lunged for Banner again.

She wasn’t even sure what happened in the next moment. Banner roared something unintelligible as he brought his fists down on the already stressed asphalt, so hard that Peggy felt a seismic shift underneath her feet. She tumbled over, along with Selvig, landing hard on dirt, rock, and pavement, glass from broken cars cutting into the meat of her palms. Heart in her throat, she pushed herself up, as Banner, having gained possession of the creatures weapon, had it wrapped around its throat, struggling in Banner's ever tightening death-grip.

“He’s going to kill him,” Selvig gasped, looking on with horror as the creature tried in vain to stop Banner’s increasing, deadly pressure. “He can’t!”

Peggy wasn’t sure she could have stopped Banner...or whatever he was when he was like this...if she wanted to. For certain, Banner when he was like this was savage, a monstrous titan who wouldn’t bat an eye at taking a life. But when he was himself, the mild-mannered scientist, she highly doubted he would be able to live with the idea of cold-blooded murder there on the streets of Harlem. She blinked back up at Selvig in mute horror, for once in her life too terrified to be able to think of anything she could do or say.

Selvig, clearly, was not. With a look of fixed determination, he pushed himself up, shakely, his legs wobbling as he stood, slowly, squaring his shoulders. Even terrified, he moved forward towards Banner and his quarry, approaching as if he were a wild animal, step by careful step.

“Bruce,” he called out, his voice ringing over the sound of approaching sirens and emergency vehicles.

Banner, if he heard him, continued to pull, the muscles under his emerald skin taught and straining, rippling easily as the chain cut into his knuckles, turning them white as it cut into the leathery chorded neck of the creature, so tightly the creature struggled, flopping, meaty fingers clawing the cold, black iron rings.

“Bruce, it’s me, Erik!” Selvig continued to move forward, slowly, ignoring the creature being throttled in front of him. “Your friend, Erik! From the university! I’m friends with you and Betty!”

That did catch Banner’s attention. He turned his gaze, dark and savage, towards Erik, eyes glittering under his fringe of dark hair. If he recognized Selvig or not, it was unclear, but the scientist continued to move forward, despite the obvious threat that lay in front of him. He stumbled, somewhat, over broken concrete and smashed parts of cars, but pushed on to stop just feet away from where Banner grappled with the other creature.

“I don’t know everything that happened to you, Bruce.” Selvig faltering from Banner’s black glare. “But I do know you and I know the good man you are. I know the good things you’ve done. This isn’t you, Bruce.”

The chain continued to cut against the other creature’s neck, Banner’s knuckles still pale and tight around it.

“Bruce,” Selvig said, softly. “I know Betty. You know I know Betty. She wouldn’t want this for you. You know this. She knows who you are, and you wouldn’t do this.”

The mention of his former lover’s name finally seemed to break through to him. He frowned down at the creature, then at the chain in his massive hands, before dropping them, clattering to the ground in disgust. The creature slumped, limp as its massive, grotesque body collapsed like a sack of bones. Peggy assumed he was finished. But to the surprise of herself, Selvig, and the now growing crowd of SHIELD and NYPD onlookers, Banner swooped the creature up from the ground, high over his head, before throwing it down to the ground again with a mighty crash, shaking the earth embedding the monster into the pavement, before stomping on it’s chest with one foot to roar in feral triumph to the skies.

From high above a wooshing sounded, settling close behind Peggy. She turned to see Stark’s red armor glitter in the light of the Apollo’s marquee, his stance even in the suit wary as he watched Selvig standing, almost unflinching as Banner stepped off the now unconscious creature. His brooding, hot eyes turned from Selvig, to Peggy, finally landing on Stark and then to the parking garage beyond, seemingly realizing that Betty Ross was safe where she was and out of harm's way thanks to Stark. Peggy thought she could hear Stark’s suit hum as out of the corner of her eye she could see him flex a gauntleted hand. Whether to prep for firing, just in case, or to grab her if this hulking version of Banner lunged.

But Banner did none of those things. Instead, he scanned the crowd of pale, shaken NYPD officers and SHIELD agents, all with weapons drawn, then down at Selvig again, his expression turning from raw aggression to something much more sad. With only the tiniest of nods at the other astrophysicist, he turned, fleeing, even as the authorities behind Peggy began shouting and calling for backup.

“What do you want us to do?” Stark’s voice sounded both in her earpiece and from behind her, the latter a mechanical note to it.

“Let him go for now,” she replied, glancing towards the other SHIELD agents. “Besides, we have to contain this one.”

The original creature still lay quiescent in the crater in the ground, clearly done for. How they were even going to contain it, she didn’t even know. She was sure SHIELD had some facility for it, but where and how was the question.

“Let me call Fury,” Peggy murmured as the officers and agents cautiously inched closer to the monster who lay in the middle of all the atrocious destruction around them, clearly all of them terrified. “I am sure there is perhaps a contingency plan for all of this.”

In the distance, Selvig watched his old friend go. Peggy wondered if he, like her, wondered just what they had gotten themselves into.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy confronts Thaddeus Ross.

In the end, Peggy didn’t punch Thaddeus Ross in the face as she had so dearly wished to do, but it was mostly because she was too tired to do so. The extraction of the creature, who they did finally confirm as being Emil Blonsky, as well as the scientist, Samuel Sterns, from Grayside College, had taken most of the night, as, too, did the clean up and evacuation of those caught in the crossfire of the mammoth battle on the Harlem streets. All tolled, hundreds had been injured, ten of those seriously, and two NYPD officers killed in the line by Blonsky’s rampage. Much like in Queens the week before, SHIELD had set up aid and assistance to the NYPD’s own first response. Considering this was their third major disaster in that same time period, Peggy had to credit that they were getting rather good at this sort of thing, sadly.

The Rosses had been taken to SHIELD’s midtown offices, held there by Chief Braxton under watchful eyes. Peggy imagined the US Army would have something to say on the matter of one of their top generals being held by them and the legality of it all, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. That said, she knew she couldn’t detain them forever, and so after most of the situation was well in hand she made her way to headquarters, an exhausted Erik Selvig in tow.

“They are in the main conference room.” Cassandra had met her at the elevator with a weary, cautious smile for them both. “You need anything before you go in?”

“No, I think I have it. Has Ross made any phone calls in or out?”

“No, though Braxton’s getting calls from the military. They are going to want him loose, soon.”

“I know.” Peggy had a feeling Fury was already having a rather interesting conversation with the president and the Defense Department at that very moment. “Have they said anything?”

“Not that I’ve heard. I got them coffee and after that tried to stay out of the way. I think they may have gotten into it with each other a bit earlier, but they’ve ignored each other ever since. Dr. Ross is on one side of the room, the general on the other. Whatever was said, I’m guessing it couldn’t have been good.”

“No, I doubt it.” Peggy couldn’t imagine it had been good, either. With an eye to Selvig, she followed Cassandra down to the room where the Rosses both waited. Dr. Ross huddled around an untouched cup of coffee, her long dark hair hiding her face. On the other side, watching the carnage unleashed in the streets on a series of monitors in the walls, General Ross was grim faced, not even his mustache twitching as he watched, still as a statue, as shaky and grain camera phone footage rolled on one of the local news reports, while on a more national broadcast a reporter stood some yards away from the Apollo Theater, speaking into a microphone. Peggy opened the door to the conference room, allowing first Selvig, then Cassandra to enter, before following up, closing the door.

“Erik?” Betty Ross had finally looked up, shocked at her friend’s appearance there. Without hesitation she threw herself up out of her chair towards him, wrapping arms around his neck as he caught her embrace. “What are you doing here?”

Across the room, Peggy noted Thaddeus Ross turn to watch this display with a guarded expression. She wondered how it must feel to him to see his daughter so happily greet the other scientist, a man who seemed to be something of a mentor and father figure to several others in his circle of research scientists. Clearly, Ross didn’t have that relationship with his daughter, and her distance from him and closeness to this stranger had to have stung.

“I was brought in by SHIELD...well, more I sort of volunteered my way in.” He glanced towards Peggy with a hint of rueful apology. “I was with Jane in New Mexico, and when we saw you and Bruce…”

“Where is he? Is he all right?” Dr. Ross turned immediately towards Peggy, already prepared to take on SHIELD on behalf of her former fiance. 

Peggy held up a hand at her fierce gaze, trying to pull up a reassuring smile from somewhere in her exhaustion. “He is gone. We let him go.”

“You did?” That hadn’t been the answer either Ross expected, certainly not Betty. Her father turned to watch the tableau, his interest piqued by Peggy’s answer.

“We felt it was for the best,” Peggy explained, nodding her head towards the monitors on the far wall. “Perhaps, when things have calmed down, we can approach him about working for us.”

“Working for you?” Thaddeus Ross’ scoff carried from the other side of the room, disbelief evident in the ringing doubt of his words. “You think you could actually get that...thing to go along with you? To play nice and do his duty, like Steve Rogers?”

Peggy’s heart normally would have lurched at the name drop from Ross, but now she was just too tired to be baited by him. “I think the events of tonight shows that there is some reason in Banner when he’s like this. After all, Selvig was able to talk him down from hurting anyone else, especially when he brought up Dr. Ross.”

That brought a flush to the other woman’s pale cheeks. She turned to her friend. “You were able to talk Bruce down?”

“I wasn’t sure that I could,” Selvig replied, looking a bit shaken and rueful, shaking his gray head at his own daring and determination. “I was trying to think of something, anything in the moment to stop him from killing the other one. Bruce would never want that laying on his conscience.”

Thaddeus Ross snorted doubtfully again, much to Peggy’s irritation. In response, she glanced towards Cassandra, getting her attention, before turning to the two scientists. “Agent Kam will see you two to my office for now. I will let her debrief you both. Once she is done, you are free to go. Dr. Selvig, you are welcome to return to my guest room when you are done. Do you have a place to stay, Dr. Ross?”

Before the young woman could answer, Cassandra stepped in with her effortless efficiency. “I could make arrangements for you if you don’t. If you both would follow me.”

Dr. Ross didn’t even look back at her father as she went with Erik, following behind Cassandra’s wake. For a fleeting second, Peggy could see hurt flash across the general’s expression, before resignation and weariness crept in. If he cared that Peggy was there to see it, he didn’t show it.

“Would you have a seat?” Peggy at least could be polite in this scenario, indicating the chair that sat just across the table from where she settled. Dr. Ross’s coffee still sat there and she wished, rather belatedly, she’d asked for some tea.

Ross settled with all the stiff formality of a seasoned officer, pulling up his combat fatigues as he settled, spine straight, meeting Peggy’s gaze directly and evenly. “I suppose you are here to chastise me and gloat that I was in over my head with Banner?”

“Do I need to do that?” Peggy somehow didn’t think she did. Ross was arrogant, stubborn, and reckless to dangerous degrees, but he wasn’t so stupid as to not realize the ramifications of what he had done. He could see it on the screens mounted beside them on the wall, the full evidence of his hubris now wrought over innocents in Harlem.

“I don’t know,” Ross shrugged, a lazy gesture considering his stiff and formal bearing. “If it were me, I might.”

“Good thing for both of us I am not you.” Peggy snapped that harder than she meant to, but at least it got through to Ross. He snorted, nodding his head at that, chewing on a corner of his bristling, silvery mustache.

“I’ll give you credit, you did what I couldn’t, getting Tony Stark in line. How did you manage that? Bribes? Blackmail?”

“I earned his trust,” she replied, honestly, feeling a small thrill of pride at that. It hadn’t been a tactic Ross had tried and she doubted he even understood the concept. “And it is a good thing I did, too, else you and your daughter might not have come through this as well as you did.”

“I know.” He grudgingly admitted that. “Stark made sure to remind me of that when he whisked us to safety.”

Peggy wasn’t going to apologize for Stark’s bravado, not when it was well deserved. Instead, she turned the focus to the more immediate situation. “You had no intention of ever keeping your end of the bargain regarding Banner, did you?”

Ross at least had the grace to admit it. “Banner is too dangerous to let just anyone have him. You saw that tonight.”

“I did and I also saw how much worse that serum can be when given to a person who isn’t worthy of it. Do you know when Abraham Erskine first created the serum, he warned that it may have unexpected reactions for subjects depending on their personalities? Subjects who perhaps displayed a tendency towards anger, violence, those with megalomaniacal tendencies, they all would have those aspects heightened and enhanced. Some, Johann Schmidt by way of example, even had physical deformities develop because of it.”

Ross clearly got her point. “You can forgive me and my research team if we assumed that was myth and rumor.”

Peggy shot a glare at him from across the table, expression and tone hard. “After tonight I can’t. You gave it to Blonsky.”

“We gave a version of the super soldier serum to Blonsky. We didn’t use the primer Betty developed, we didn’t subject him to any radiation, just the serum itself. He didn’t grow taller or bigger, but he did grow stronger, more resilient, just like Erskine’s notes said he would. How he turned into...that thing, I don’t know.”

“Where did you get the serum?”

He had never admitted before where he got it, throwing up a front of blustering and excuses. Now he only chuckled, wearily, as if the entire situation was too ironic to be believed. “The serum came to me through intelligence channels. Where they found it, I don’t know where. All of it is myth and rumor anyway, ghosts. The military said it was credible.”

“You were willing to use a serum of dubious origin to try and revive Project: Rebirth?”

“Hardly the stupidest thing the US Army has ever done,” he replied, glibly. “This formula was purported to have all of the qualities of Erskine’s original without the need of using radiation to encourage rapid muscle growth and increase bone density. Our initial tests showed that it worked, just like Erskine said, but it was evident from the start it was flawed. Subjects who were given the serum began displaying increased aggression and were not easily subdued. They tweaked the formula somewhat, but at the cost of the cellular growth properties, hence why we developed the primer in order to use radiation again to promote growth. Neither Betty nor Banner expected the side effects that would come out of it.”

“They might have, if you had bothered to tell them what you were up to.”

Ross at least had the grace to look ashamed at that. “I had orders. The serum was classified, they didn’t have the clearance to know what it was for.”

“Because you had already been reprimanded for trying it out and failing spectacularly.” The level of arrogance and mismanagement was breathtaking to Peggy. “The fact that you were told to stop and continued, even despite all reason, that alone should be enough to clap you in handcuffs.”

“As if SHIELD is any better in this!” He hit back, now more irate. Clearly, she had hit a nerve. “Maybe look into your own house before you start throwing rocks at ours. I’ve heard rumors of some of your projects here, things that aren’t kept as secret as you would like to think they are.”

Peggy thought of Coulson, Selvig, and this Project: Pegasus, kept so secret they wouldn’t even tell her about it. “Be that as it may, your project managed to get out and cause destruction tonight and is already all over the news outlets. It will be the front page of most papers tomorrow. How do you think the Senate Armed Services Committee is going to feel about that situation, especially on the heels of the fiasco with Tony Stark? They already have one black eye, and they will want to avoid another, and you are unfortunately in their firing line.”

Ross hardly looked surprised. One did not rise to the rank of general in the United States Army without figuring out how the sausage got made. “I imagine between all of this my career in the military is probably finished, I won’t lie about that. So, what do you want?”

Peggy bristled somewhat at that. “Who says I want anything?”

“You’ve wanted something this whole time, and I have to admit, Carter, you have been tenacious. There’s something to admire about that.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, dryly, unwilling to fall even to that crumb of flattery. “What I want hasn’t changed. I want the files on Banner and your daughter’s research as well as everything you did with the super soldier serum.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, an edge to his bark of a laugh. “For all the good it will do you. You won’t figure out how to control him with it.”

“I don’t need to control him, but I don’t want anyone else to get any more bright ideas on what they can do with the research.”

“That genie is already out of the bag, Carter, it was out the minute Erskine ever published. You can’t stop it.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded, knowing he was right. “But I still want the data, please.”

“Fine,” he agreed, though not happily. “And in exchange, what do I get for it?”

That he had the nerve to say it shouldn’t have shocked her as much as it did. After all, Ross had played hardball since the beginning and had clearly had every intention of breaking the bargain they had reached over Banner. Still, while he may not be a man of honor, she had was certainly a woman of honor, and she had an idea of what Ross was angling at.

“SHIELD will help mitigate some of the political fallout for you.” She wasn’t sure how, but she was certain they could think of something. “Perhaps at least show you were cooperative and did your utmost to aid the situation and prevent the damage and loss of life that occurred.”

The arch of one of Ross’ grizzled eyebrows said that even he didn’t believe that this would fly. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Stark said you were laying fire to Blonsky to aid Banner and ordering troops to come to help him. I believe it is true enough.”

Understandably, that didn’t seem to abate Ross’ skepticism. “And you will do that in exchange for Banner and the research?”

“Yes,” she affirmed. “And Blonsky will be remanded to your custody to do with as you please.”

She was offering Ross a life buoy for his military career, the chance to save face and to still keep a portion of the work of five year. That should appease the military, at least. Even if they lock him in a dark cell, it perhaps will teach them the cost of playing with things they don’t understand.”

Ross eyed her, squinting dubiously across the table at her, shaking his silver head. “It’s cute that you think the US military will ever learn their lesson on anything.”

His cynicism wasn’t without merit. “I told you, I only want Banner and the research. Do we have a deal, General?”

Despite the grim glare he shot her, she could see the wheels turning. Ross was a political animal, and he knew he could roll the dice and see what he got without SHIELD’s help, but he likely wasn’t going to like the results. At least with her pushing Fury, SHIELD could not only aid him and gain what they wanted, they could gain his cooperation in the future, if they played their cards right. It took him less than a minute to land on his decision.

“You play good ball, Carter. Banner is yours, I’ll not pursue him.”

“And the research?”

“Will be sent to you in two days. I can drop it off at the Triskelion myself, right at Fury’s feet.”

She didn’t know if that would be necessary, but Fury might find it amusing. “Thank you.”

Ross only gave her the curtest of nods. “Am I being held by SHIELD for anything else?”

If Peggy had her way, she’d have thrown him in the same holding cell she’d been kept in on her arrival and left to cool there for several days, but she thought better of it. “No, General Ross, you are free to go. I am sure you have much to do, coordinating your men.”

He said little as Peggy pulled herself up and rose, making for the door of the conference room. Her hand had just grasped the door handle, however, when he did speak in a quiet, careful drawl. “I meant what I said about SHIELD having secrets, Carter. It may have been created with the best of intentions, but sixty years and a Cold War changed a lot of things. You should never have left it all for your pal Howard Stark to run all by himself. If it weren’t for him, we might have not been in this predicament now.”

Peggy felt the blood in her veins chill, her heart lurching at that. She turned to stare at him, incredulous. His smirk was just shy of gloating, his teeth shining under his mustache. “What? You think I was going to buy the coincidence story forever? You have people in SHIELD who like to talk, and I have heard all sorts of interesting stories about you, about how you showed up one day out of the blue, of how old Howard swore you would come back, something regarding time travel. If you had honestly wanted to keep that secret, you’d have done a better job of hiding the fact. You’re a spy, Carter, you know that.”

She swallowed, licking suddenly dry lips. “Who says I was trying to keep it secret?”

“Fair,” he conceded. “Though I get not wanting to advertise it. I mean, who would believe a story like that?”

He was baiting her, but for what purpose. “You do, clearly.”

“I just saw two monsters from some old-time horror movies clash in the middle of Harlem. I can believe anything. I don’t care who you really are, but others might. SHIELD is a house divided and people are talking, whether Fury likes to admit it or not. You might want to look into that if you are going to keep up your little plan.”

Peggy stared at him, unblinking, for a long moment, before turning on her heel and marching out of the room, unsure of what to make of the conversation she just had.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy meets with the mayor.

“You know they are calling it the ‘Battle of Harlem’.” The mayor of New York, a no-nonsense businessman turned politician, tossed a newspaper on the long conference room table. The lurid photo on the front screamed that title in big, white letters laid over a photograph of two struggling titans, Bruce Banner's massive, green fist about to pound Emil Blonsky’s deformed and horrific face into the cracked and broken pavement. Had it not happened before her very eyes, Peggy would have called it the stuff of fantasies.

“Using the world ‘battle’ is perhaps a touch of journalistic hyperbole, but the point is well made,” Peggy offered, diplomatically, eyeing the room full of city officials and emergency personnel. From the side of those seated beneath the oil paintings in one of the long conference rooms in city hall she could see the studiously composed expression of Julio Vargas, a surprise in the room, frankly. Of course he had been the person Peggy had called when Ivan Vanko had threatened the Stark Expo, but he did not serve in an office in city hall that had anything to do with the sort of threats such as the city had faced over the last two weeks. Despite being her friend, he did nothing to give way to her why he was there or what his presence served, outside of a brief, nervous smile.

“Glad I get that across to you, Director Carter.” The mayor’s sarcasm finally pulled her attention back to the matter at hand. “I’ve had to get the governor to declare Queens and Harlem disaster areas just to get federal funds in there. There are people hurt, people dead, millions worth in damage, and we are left on the hook for it, and I’m being asked the question as to why this all happened in our backyard. Seems the only person who seems to thread all these events together - outside of Tony Stark - is you. So, do you care to start explaining to us all what happened?”

“I can explain what I am cleared to tell you,” Peggy responded with what she hoped was equanimity. “SHIELD has been involved in two separate situations, the first was with Mr. Stark himself, in relation to onboarding him as a consultant with our organization per an agreement between Mr. Stark, the United States military, and SHIELD. During the course of that situation it became clear that there was a personal threat to Mr. Stark from Ivan Vanko. It was believed that French and Monegasque officials had the threat under control, but they did not, leading to Justin Hammer’s involvement. It spiraled out of control from there. I do believe your office received a full report on the situation provided by Agent Cassandra Kam, did they not?”

“They did,” the mayor admitted, dryly, arching one grizzled, graying eyebrow. “And while I can appreciate that a man of Mr. Stark’s unique abilities clearly might draw attention to himself from unsavory quarters, I don’t understand how this automatically leads to terrorist attacks in my city. Nor do I understand how a...rogue military experiment came to Harlem and began fighting with another rogue military experiment just days later.”

“That was a separate and unrelated incident,” Peggy clarified, trying to sound as smooth as possible and sooth the clearly ruffled feathers of the New York City leadership. “As I am sure you read in your report, Mr. Vanko escaped from French authorities, aided and abetted by Justin Hammer, a rival of Mr. Stark’s. He had hoped to used Mr. Vanko as an engineer in his company, but unfortunately Mr. Vanko used his relative freedom to use Hammer technology to create drones to use in his attack of the Stark Expo in Queens, with the hopes of destroying it and undermining Stark and his reputation. After all, he claims he is the man bringing world peace and ending all conflict, how would it look if the very showcase of that was destroyed by another man in a homemade fighting suit. It would not only undermine Stark, it would prove the point of Senator Stern and many others.”

Judging from the general rumbles and shared, pointed glances among the city officials the mayor had gathered, there were many who seemed to agree, at least in principle, with Stern’s assessment. Clearly, Julio’s opinion of Stark - as a man who arrogantly bulldozed over the city's government to get what he wanted, no matter the law or the hassle to officials - was shared by many within the upper echelons of New York's government. While the mayor might be considered Stark a personal friend, many of the rank and file who served in the city’s administration were not, and they were the ones left dealing with the aftermath.

One of them, an officious looking, balding man, with deep set, beady eyes and a nasal, reedy voice, spoke up from his position sitting to the right of the mayor. “So you don’t feel that Mr. Stark and his - er - suit might have brought on this terrorist attack that destroyed billions of dollars of public property and threatened the lives of thousands?”

“No more than I think that Mr. Stark’s position as the former head of Stark Industries and the son of Howard Stark brought it on,” Peggy replied, carefully trying to thread the needle the mayor’s office was setting before her. “As a prolific and high profile weapons manufacturer, Mr. Stark is hardly an unknown figure. When he was producing weapons, Stark’s name was slapped on the side of every one, and he is famous for his wealth and how he got it. Just because he no longer makes weapons for the government doesn’t mean that there aren’t those out there who wouldn’t want to target him because of who he is. In that sense, it has nothing to do with his suit or what he chooses to do with it, rather he is a public figure, like many other public figures, who draws a certain level of attention, both good and bad.”

The official didn’t look convinced. “Director Carter, you didn’t answer my question. Do you think that Stark with his suit will bring on more attacks like this in the world? I mean, if he’s such a public figure who brings this sort of attention everywhere he goes, how can we countenance him staying here in New York if he is going to bring death and destruction in his wake?”

“How can you not,” Peggy countered, mildly irritated at both the man and the presumption. “Anthony Stark is still a United States citizen with certain rights, which include the right to make one of his homes in New York if he so chooses. You can’t precisely keep him out of the city.”

“But if what you are saying is true, he’s a target, which puts the entire city at risk.”

“So is the President of the United States and you don’t ban him from coming to New York, do you?” The ridiculousness of this speculation was beyond belief, and yet this little man sat there and honestly made it anyway. “Look, I have been working with Mr. Stark personally in regards to him and his suit. He has agreed to work with SHIELD and to be under my oversight moving forward. He has relinquished his role as CEO of Stark Industries, passing it over to Virginia Potts, and he is no longer in the position of power he once was. He has agreed that he will use the Iron Man armor in conjunction with SHIELD and its operations.”

“Which are what,” the man persisted, almost goading.

“Which are classified, Mister….”

“Dershowitz, Frank Dershowitz, I serve as the mayor’s Chief of Staff. I hope you pardon me, Director, but it’s just that I don’t know if anyone feels comfortable with just, I don’t know, SHIELD just marching in and taking over the show without some explanation. I mean, between this and...whatever that thing in Harlem was…”

“That was different,” Peggy cut in, before the little man cut her off once more.

“Yes, this insane story of military medical experiments gone awry, which is even more crazy than some vengeful, Russian engineer trying to kill Tony Stark. Giants tearing up Harlem, all due to some military experiment gone awry?”

“I believe General Ross’ assessment was sent to you all for review on the situation.”

“Oh, I read it.” Dershowitz spoke over her, glancing at the mayor. “It’s just...hard to believe that the serum used to make Captain America - Brooklyn’s favorite native son, I might add - created something like...well, that.”

There was a firm nod from several people Peggy guessed represented or at least were from Brooklyn. “Be that as it may, Mr. Dershowitz, that is the information we have at this time. SHIELD is working with the US Army now to help keep both Dr. Banner and Captain Blonsky contained.”

“Contained? How can you contain that?” Dershowitz scoffed. “Two officers were killed by those two, not to mention the damage to Harlem…”

“I think we get the point, Frank.” The mayor cut off his chief of staff, firmly, turning his focus back on Peggy. “Director Carter, I think we all understand that neither of these situations is necessarily related to or tied to the other. I get it, it’s been a crazy week, things happen. But the bigger question I have is what is SHIELD going to do about it? My city, the one your organization happens to have a large office in, was caught up in situations that may not have been your creation, but which you were the ones playing point on all of this. I think our question for you, today, is whether or not we can expect more of this sort of behavior, and if so, what will you all do about it?”

It was a fair question, a reasonable question, one that Peggy would expect out of any elected official in this sort of situation. The problem was...she didn’t have an easy answer. She knew this collection of public servants would want reassurances, promises that this would never happen again, that SHIELD would ensure that lives and property would be protected and that all threats be forewarned enough so that the city could take proper measures to protect its citizens, but Peggy in that moment found herself stuttering, searching for words to even respond with. She knew the truth, that she could not promise that this wouldn’t happen again, that there were other things coming for them that they would not be prepared for. This fact more than any other was the reason she was sitting there in the room before them. It was why she had come forward in time in the first place, why she had followed Scott Lang down the rabbit hole and ended up here, the fact that sometime soon there would be an attack, one that they couldn’t avoid, that would threaten the entire city, and it was for that reason they would all need the Avengers. Danger was coming for them, for all of them, and they would need the likes of Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers - frankly, all the people Peggy had collected over the last year in her quest - just to survive what was coming.

“This will happen again,” Peggy finally said, meeting the mayor’s eyes from across the table. “Absolutely it will happen again, and it will happen when you least expect it, from a source you will not be looking towards. This is why I….SHIELD has been working to create a strategic team to address such threats, ones so big that they will need a group dedicated to standing by to address potentially world threatening events.”

That perked the interest of several in the small crowd there with the mayor. Peggy glanced over to Julio, who hardly looked surprised by her words. She guessed in their discussions together he had picked up most of the idea himself. Still, there was a buzz in the close confines of the room, and even the rat-like chief of staff looked curious as Peggy pulled the attention of the room back to herself once more. 

“For some time now, SHIELD has been looking into the possibility of such a team, and as it so happens, the time is now right for it. The Avengers Initiative is designed to address the threats that we are looking at, ones like Ivan Vanko or even the situation in Harlem. With more organization and a tactical approach, this initiative should prove to be able to provide the sort of response to those sorts of threats, be they in New York or anywhere else in the world.”

Fury would have her head for doing this, that Peggy knew. This initiative was top secret, in truth it wasn’t even fully secure, not with the myriad of logistics it required and the budget she had asked for it. She was taking a page out of Chester Phillip’s handbook, lobbing a grenade into a crowd and seeing what they would do. It was a calculated risk, one that could either sink the entire project or force the World Security Council’s hand in terms of its approval, but in revealing it now, she would at least be assuaging the voices demanding reassurances - particularly Frank Dershowitz - and laying the groundwork to help the city prepare more fully for a threat Peggy had a feeling would be coming sooner rather than later.

“This initiative of SHIELD’s?” The mayor cut into her thoughts, curiosity and a hint of excitement clear in his voice. “What does this precisely look like?”

Peggy realized only belatedly she had nothing to present to this room of administrators who all loved facts, figures, timelines, and charts. All she had were her own ideas, vague and poorly formed, certainly nothing concrete to give to them. Swallowing against a sudden case of dry mouth and nervous agitation, she squared her shoulders, thinking quickly as she improvised on the spot.

“The team itself will consist of a few key operatives, all of whom have shown an aptitude for special and unique skills that allow them to meet situations that are beyond the capability of normal authorities, people like Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. The rest of the initiative itself will be filled out with a support staff of scientists, researchers, operatives and others who will support and aid the primary core in their operations. Essentially, the Avengers will be a small, operative group within SHIELD, designed and built to meet the challenges of direct and overwhelming threats anywhere on the globe, be they a direct terrorist attack, say as in the case of Mr. Vanko, or a situation that has rapidly spun out of control, like the case of Captain Blonsky or even New Mexico. While the team cannot guarantee that there won’t be damage and destruction of property in these scenarios, our hope is that with enough advance notice and a close working relationship with the local and national governments on the ground, we will be able to help mitigate injury and loss of life to civilian populations, as well as martial assistance and for first responders on the ground. The idea is that when threats do make themselves known, the Avengers can initialize protocols that can allow all levels to work in concert with one another and prepare as much as possible in the hopes of not only stopping the threat itself, but with as few casualties as can be reasonably managed.”

Somewhere, Peggy assumed Phillips was laughing himself sick at the careful hand she laid on the table in this figurative game of poker. She was recklessly showing her hand and hoping that it would pacify the mayor and his government and reassure them that SHIELD knew what it was doing. Frankly, Peggy wasn’t so sure that she did, but if she could wave her hands enough and do an Angie style level of song and dance, perhaps she might just smooth over this whole affair and push her own agenda with SHIELD.

To her relief, the mayor seemed to be intrigued by the idea, even if there were a host of skeptical glances throughout his gathered administrators. “Avengers, you say?”

“Yes,” Peggy confirmed, with more confidence than she felt.

“And where will they be based at, down in DC?”

Peggy pulled up a quick response, one she knew would please the people in the room. “Most likely they will be based here in New York, as it has strategic value to those who would pose a threat.”

This did please several, notably the mayor, as Peggy could see. “And this team, you want to have Iron Man in it?”

“Yes, and Dr. Banner, should he agree to it.”

Here, Dershowitz spoke up again in a nasal whine that set Peggy’s teeth on edge. “The green monster, you mean?”

Peggy just did bite back the impulse to roll her eyes at the man. “No, I mean Dr. Bruce Banner, who was an imminent scientist before his accident. As General Ross’ report shows, Dr. Banner used his condition to help stop the escalation of last week's situation. I believe if given a chance to safely engage in similar such work, Dr. Banner would be a valuable asset.”

“Believe or know,” Dershowitz pushed, his expression narrow. “That’s a lot to ask for, Director, that you can control that...beast.”

“I believe in the long run you will see that it is preferable to have SHIELD in charge of Dr. Banner and his situation than his previous handlers.” Peggy was true to her word, she wasn’t about to decry Thaddeus Ross publicly. That said, it didn’t take much reading between the lines to know how the entire situation in Harlem had escalated, and Dershowitz clearly knew it. He shrugged, reluctantly, but said nothing further on the topic.

The mayor took control once, shooting his chief an exasperated frown before continuing. “My staff and I had already discussed the growing problem of threats towards the city and a need to have closer conversations with SHIELD. If you are planning on headquartering this...team of yours here, or at the very least if you see New York City as a future, high-stakes target, well then I feel that means it’s even more imperative to have a closer relationship between our office and mine. Towards that end, I’ve asked a member of my staff to serve as the official liaison between the two. I believe you know Mr. Julio Vargas?”

Peggy tried to swallow her surprise as she let her gaze flicker to Julio, shooting her a somewhat guilty smile. “I do know Mr. Vargas, he is a friend of mine.”

Clearly, Peggy was not the only one playing poker here, as she realized that the mayor had played his own game to set up his own terms. In truth, it was a fair and reasonable request from any mayor, on that score Peggy couldn’t fault him, but that he had pre planned it enough to reach out to Julio specifically was the unexpected piece. He had worked it skillfully, and Peggy realized that refusing would not precisely be an option here.

“I would be happy to work with Mr. Vargas and bringing him into conversation with our team. I know he is a man of unimpeachable character and would be someone who would hold this city and its interests to heart.”

“Wonderful!” The mayor was clearly pleased, looking to Dershowitz and the rest of the table as he continued. “Mr. Vargas will of course be the main point of contact for this office with SHIELD and this Avengers Initiative. I expect that in his role, he will allow for better and closer communications between your organization and the city, especially in cases, such as recently, when the public’s well being and safety are concerned.”

Peggy eyed her friend, who met her arched expression with a sheepish smile.

“I am sure that Director Carter and Mr. Vargas here can hash out the particulars of what will be happening in the future. If you could both work on a full report to present to myself and the city council sometime before the fall budget meetings take place, that way we have an idea of just what sort of insanity we are looking at, I think that my office would appreciate it. That said, if none of you have anything further to ask, ladies and gentleman, perhaps we can adjourn.”

Without further ado, the meeting broke up, as the men and women rose to a buzz of voices, gathering their things. Peggy, too, gathered her files, already considering the ramifications of what she had done in revealing the Avengers to the world. She didn’t even have a team yet, not in the concrete sense of the word, let alone a support staff, a budget, logistics, even a plan, and yet she had just announced it to the mayor of New York as if it was a sure and done deal.

“So…” Julio had managed to work his way through the crowd to the end of the long, mahogany table, where Peggy had been sitting. “About that little scene there.”

“The mayor asked you to liaise with SHIELD?” She found it interesting the mayor had asked Julio specifically, given the fact he was the one person in the mayor’s office she happened to know.

“Well, I may have volunteered myself,” he admitted with a chagrined expression. “I mean, when the topic came up in an emergency meeting last week. I was called in because Harlem is a historically African-American part of town. My office deals a lot with the neighborhoods on the Upper West Side and when I realized what they wanted, I thought I could step up and offer myself. I mean, I know you, and I figured that would cut on a lot of the jurisdictional district and bureaucratic bullshit that might ensue if it were anyone else.”

That idea had never crossed Peggy’s mind. “You think I would play games of politics with the mayor’s office just to engage in a pissing contest?”

“Happens all the time whenever we get involved with different branches of government. Why should SHIELD be any different? You said it yourself, some information is classified.”

“And some still is, Julio, I can’t just tell you everything. That said, you aren’t wrong.” She shook her head, picking up her briefcase strap to sling over her shoulder, giving her friend a fond, exasperated smile. “I am glad that if I have to deal with anyone in all of this it is you and not that Frank Dershowitz or the head of the city’s emergency management response.”

“Ahh, Frank!” Julio chuckled, eyeing the little man who hewed close to the mayor’s elbow as they were in deep conversation with a cluster in the corner of the room. “Yeah, Frank is in deep in the party political system. Rumor has it he’s priming the mayor for a gubernatorial run when he’s finished up his term as mayor. He’s pretty cut throat, especially in regards to anything that might make his boy look bad for any future political runs.”

“I suppose two major disasters in his city in the span of two weeks would look bad on anyone’s political record.”

“Hence the dog-and-pony show here today. He has to be seen as demanding accountability for what happened. We were lucky things weren't worse in Queens and in Harlem. If SHIELD is thinking of creating some, I don’t know, super team, that means things are serious enough that you all have been thinking of this for a while. And if you are thinking of this, that means this office needs to know.”

He was right, they all were. “I’ll have to fight for this with SHIELD. This makes things...more complicated politically over there.”

And she didn’t relish the conversation with Fury that would come out of this.

Julio, for his part, was oblivious to this. He quirked a dark eyebrow, shrugging affably. “I’m sure you’ll get them into line. So...Director Carter? That’s your title? Way you and Sharon described it, you were just a regular old operative.”

“I am...sort of.” She had always been rather cagey about the truth of what she did at SHIELD, for good reason. “I’m very good at what I do.”

“Apparently, I mean, you saved a lot of lives in Queens, probably a lot in Harlem. Just makes me wonder what else about you we don’t know.”

His words hit home, a stab of guilt piercing Peggy in the gut, her fingers tightening on her briefcase strap. She was well aware she had never been honest with either Juan or Julio about herself. On that mad day she had arrived in the future she’d honestly been far too rattled to really put much thought into it beyond the realization that they were good people who could help her. Since then, she and Sharon had crafted a careful conceit around Peggy’s life and past, one that had avoided deep details, like the role Peggy had in SHIELD, dancing around it with terms such as “classified” and “national security”. With Julio’s new role, it would involve her friend much more into her world as well as the truth about her past and just how she got here. The knowledge that Thaddeus Ross had sussed it out was already problematic enough.

“I’ve been as honest I could be, Julio,” she murmured, pained at how evasive she was being. “Sometimes, in this business, I don’t get the luxury of showing my entire hand like I did today. But in saying that, I do try to be as honest as I can. It’s not always easy.”

“I know,” he replied, ruefully. “I won’t be able to tell Juan about any of this, will I?”

That did make Peggy chuckle. “Most likely not. I know it will kill him not to know the secrets of what I do day-to-day.”

“I’ve had years of practice avoiding his wheedling. You should hear him at Christmas and his birthday.”

“I’m sure you will manage...that is, if you are ready to face the sort of things we may be facing down the line.”

“I’m a born and bred New Yorker, you get used to death and danger around here. I think I’ve got this.” His grin of bravado didn’t quite hide the wary concern that lurked there. Julio was a political creature, but he wasn’t a fool.

“Good, because you may need it. Are you ready to step through the looking glass?”

“You make it sound like it’s all Wonderland.”

Peggy could only laugh as she finally pushed away from the conference table. “When you hear what my last few weeks have been like, you’ll maybe understand that sometimes it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience today. The holiday week caught up with me, and so I'm slower today getting this one out. Happy New Year to you all who have been reading! Thank God that year is over (we shall not speak its name) and let's hope the next one is better.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy has to answer for spilling the beans.

Peggy expected there would be repercussions for her impulsive decision reveal the Avengers, she just didn’t expect it so soon.

“You told the mayor about the Avengers?” Cassandra met her the next morning just as she stepped off the lift.

“I did,” Peggy agreed, readily, not bothering to prevaricate to the other woman. “They needed to hear some reassurances we would have things like this handled in the future.”

“Will we have things like this handled in the future?”

“I doubt it very much, but that isn’t precisely something you tell the mayor of New York, now is it?” Peggy paused in her steps, frowning at Cassandra’s less than serene air before glancing to her office beyond. “How did you hear about it?”

Cassie flushed. “I...errr...you have someone waiting in your office.”

Just what she needed first thing this morning. “I thought Coulson was still managing the New Mexico situation.”

“Not Coulson,” Cassandra gulped.

It took Peggy less than a second to intuit who precisely would make the agent she worked with everyday that nervous. “Right, well, I suppose I have to face that music.”

She was unsurprised, then, to find Nick Fury lounging lazily in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, a coffee in hand as he flipped channels on the screen in the far corner. He didn’t even look her direction when she wandered in, all business, into her office. “Director Carter, nice to see you this morning.”

“I wish I could say the same for you, Fury, but I have already guessed you are not here for a friendly chat.” Peggy set her briefcase on the floor under her desk, mentally preparing herself for what she surmised was a dressing down. “I had to tell them something.”

“Something,” he drawled, lazily, turning his head so his left-eye patch regarded her, disturbingly, before clicking off the television to turn to her more fully. “You are a spy, are you not? You convinced Johann Schmidt you were a pretty German fraulein for weeks trying to get at Erskine and you couldn’t think of a better thing to tell the New York city government than we are building a secret team of superheroes because aliens might come and destroy your city?”

“I didn’t tell them about the alien part,” Peggy defended herself, mildly disgruntled and on the defensive. “And they liked the idea.”

“Of course they would like the idea, they think New York is the most important city in the world. I think that LA, Chicago and Houston might beg to differ in the US, and let’s not start on the list of other cities bigger and more populous than New York in the world.”

“I wasn’t speaking to the mayor of those cities, and besides, they weren’t the ones who had their city torn to pieces in the last few weeks. The mayor was right, he wanted answers and he wanted assurances that SHIELD wasn’t going to make a habit of this and would be able to stop any and all such further incursions. You have to admit he had a point in that.”

Fury’s perpetual scowl only deepened at that. “By publicly speaking, you are forcing a hand that doesn’t like to be forced. The World Security Council is going to raise all sorts of hell over this, they already are, and guess who they like to kick in the teeth for that.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, flinging herself back in her chair and throwing up her hands. “Are you angry that I told the mayor about the Avengers or angry that you are getting picked on by bureaucrats for it?”

“Yes,” Fury snapped, setting his coffee on the edge of Peggy’s desk. “You may not have had to deal with them in your day, but I do in mine. I told you to be patient and careful, to trust me and not get too ahead of things.”

“I do trust you, but that doesn’t go very far when I have to answer for two attacks that hit the city in just two weeks. They wanted answers and reassurances, and they wanted accountability from SHIELD.” The fact they had already set up Julio as a liaison was proof enough that they had already been thinking this through for some time already.

“You’ve made promises I’m not sure you have the ability to keep,” Fury countered, irritation clear as he leaned forward against the desk. “I told you they want to cut it.”

“Surely, after the last few weeks, they see just how needful it is.”

“It’s not as simple as all that.” Fury’s scowl, if possible, got even darker as he spoke. “We aren’t talking simple bureaucratic number crunching here.”

“What, they feel that whatever side project you have Coulson on in New Mexico, this Project: Pegasus, is more important than ensuring we have a response to real terror threats?”

“Yes,” he snapped, though not precisely at Peggy. His singular gaze was hard as he eyed her from across her desk. “You do realize that the Avengers, on paper, is not even close to a sure thing.”

“I’ve managed to get Stark on board.”

“One person who at his best has issues with authority.”

“And he’s working on Banner.”

“If you can find him.” Fury’s one good eye pointedly glared at her. “So you have, what, a rich engineer with a bad attitude and an astrophysicist who lives in an RV?”

“Possibly a god as well, if he ever makes an appearance.” He was right, and Peggy didn’t like admitting it. “Besides, I have more than that. Kam is already on this detail, Sharon might agree if I ask…”

“None of which is here and now and I have a feeling if the mayor and his city council knew that they wouldn’t exactly be thrilled at your proposition.”

“But it at least is a plan, which is better than providing them with nothing, which is precisely what we had until I brought the Avengers up.”

Fury glared but made no retort. They were at an impasse. Fury in frustration threw himself up, rising to stalk to the far window and glare out at the city around them. Being in his position was not easy, Peggy knew that better than anyone. It hadn’t been easy when she had been in it, it certainly wasn’t easy now with a much larger organization to control. Fury was juggling situations she never would have dreamed of in her time, and worse, there was the added complication of the World Security Council. Heavy was the head wearing the crown. She wondered, idly, why it was he even took it up in the first place.

“How do we make this work,” she finally offered, diplomatically, hoping that there may be some sort of compromise in the mess she had unleashed with this. “Clearly, they have to see there is a need for something like this.”

“It’s not that simple, Carter, and you know it.” Fury turned, slightly, enough so his one cool eye could regard her, cooly. “This isn’t just about the Avengers or even about Stark or Banner. There is a power play going on here and I’m on the losing side of it.”

Pieces began to click into place, snatches of conversation, layers of meaning in Fury’s words. “Between you and the Security Council?”

“More or less, though it’s not just me involved in the fight. I just happen to be one of the more high profile targets.”

Peggy’s political calculus began to size up the situation, the odds and ends of everything she’d gathered since arriving in this strange time a year-and-a-half before. “You and Alexander Pierce, I assume, are on one side. Whose the other?”

Fury turned fully now, with a hint of a disbelieving snort, impressed she had sussed that much out on her own “The other side of this argument is a man named Gideon Malick. You’ve not heard of him, but he sits on the council, represents the US. He comes from old money, got his start running the family business. That got him connections to some pretty powerful types; senators, members of the UN, he knew Howard on a social level. He parlayed that all into a sitting membership on the World Security Council. He came up in the tail end of the Cold War, and between you and me I don’t think he got the memo that the war is over. He has pushed for a more hardline stance for SHIELD, particularly in terms of its response to global threats, a sort of ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ mentality. Do what it takes to keep the most people alive.”

It was a way of thinking Peggy was very familiar with, coming up through the SOE and SSR, a ruthless mindset that left little nuance for mistakes or gray areas. “So you and Pierce value a more strategic way of thinking, Malick a more blunt force take on things, and the Avengers are caught in the middle. Why?”

Fury shrugged. “Because the idea is crazy, that is why.”

“You came up with the idea,” she countered, dryly.

“I did, doesn’t mean it’s not crazy.” He pushed off, pacing slowly back to the seat he vacated in his irritation. “Carter, you were in New Mexico, you said it yourself when you landed in my lap, there are aliens out there, races, civilizations, cultures, all out there in the stars. I know that, you know that, but the average person hearing that will think you're nuts. Now imagine Gideon Malick, a businessman, no-nonsense, deals in cold, hard reality, and you tell him about the fact that there are existential threats and you are going to respond to it with a team made up of 1940s super soldier, a billionaire brat with a high tech suit, a genius scientist with anger issues, and throw in an alien god for flavor and what in the hell is anyone going to think?”

“That it’s crazy,” Peggy admitted, pulling a knowing grin as she leaned across her desk to meet Fury’s singular, dark expression. “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it.”

Fury smirk told her he thought she was just as crazy as the idea. “I think was absolutely should do it, but Malick has the council in his pocket. Pierce is caught between a rock and a hard place. His job is to execute the wishes of the World Security Council, but he has his own agenda in place. You got to give a little to get a little, and they don’t like being pushed. What you did with the mayor pushed them and they don’t like it.”

“They or this Malick?”

“Doesn’t matter. I told you to trust me, Carter.”

“I do,” she insisted, even if she knew it was an empty protest. If she had, she wouldn’t have dropped it on the administration of the city of New York without so much as a by-your-leave from Fury.

“I’m supposed to be here telling you that the World Security Council has finalized the budget for the next year and that the Avengers Initiative will not be getting funding. That’s it, it’s over.”

He dropped that bombshell with cold precision, allowing it to explode over Peggy as she felt first shock, then anger, then frustration well to the fore. “So, what, just like that? After I promised the mayor, after I worked to get Stark onboard, after Banner…”

Fury rolled his eye at her breaking temper, holding up a hand to forestall the raging set down Peggy was gearing up to. “I told you I am supposed to tell you that, Carter. That is why I’m here. I have been sent to shut it down, on the books, on paper.”

It clicked with her what he was saying. Her ire ebbed as a new realization rose within her. “So do you want me to move on ahead, then?”

“Under the radar, sure. For now, I’ve managed to smooth it all over saying you are working special projects at my discretion, including in the handling of Stark, who will continue in an advisory capacity for SHIELD. You answer to me, they don’t need to know the details.”

A simple and elegant fix, one she was surprised he hadn’t employed from the start. “And as for the funding for myself, Agent Kam, anyone I want to bring in on a team?”

“I’ve got some reserve I can call on. As you know, thing about being the director is you got money hidden in places for emergencies and rainy days.”

“Spoken like a true operative,” Peggy smiled, knowing well that was where he likely got the habit, hiding his financial tracks. “Now, what do I tell the mayor and Julio Vargas, who I am now working with, about this situation?”

“SHIELD is looking into building a more open relationship and that our projects are in process and classified, but we will share what we can. The usual. You are something of an expert on that sort of double speak.”

“I am, but they will eventually want results. How do I produce something that on the books doesn’t exist?”

“I’ll leave those details to you, Carter. I have a feeling we will need them sooner rather than later, whether Malick likes it or not.”

He rose again, grave but now mollified as Peggy rose to see him out. “I suppose if I got myself into this mess, I can get myself out of it.”

“You’re good at that, Carter. It’s why they put you in charge in the first place.”

Funny, she thought, dryly, her tendency to jump into things was usually the one thing criticized about her the most in her SSR days. “I do have experience, I will say that.”

There was one question, however, she had yet to ask him, the one she had been dying to, but refrained, knowing what the answer would be. “Have you found any luck with…”

“No,” he replied, quickly, but gently, a hint of compassion creeping into his otherwise stern expression. “I’ve still got lines open with Canada and Greenland. Scientists up there studying the ice cap said the melt is the worst this year that it’s ever been. Maybe this summer they turn something up. Once I know, you will.”

It wasn’t much of a reassurance, not for Peggy’s patience, but it was at least better than nothing. “I suppose I hate waiting.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” His dark eye glittered, but he nodded as he saw himself out the door. Peggy watched him wend his way through the floor, a fleet of other agents stopping to stare in the wake of his black greatcoat, before they all shot her furtive glances and returned to whatever business they were in the middle of. Cassandra even stopped, eyeing Peggy worriedly. “That go okay?”

“Yes and no,” she replied, ambiguously, unwilling to drop the dire news from Fury about the state of their project just yet. “There are, as always, complications.”

“Wouldn’t be SHIELD if there weren’t,” Cassandra replied, with the air of a seasoned SHIELD officer. “By the way, Romanoff called looking for you. She said when you were done with Fury, she’s got some updates for you.”

“Thanks,” Peggy murmured, waiting till Fury had cleared the floor completely to go back into her office, shutting the door. Romanoff was the least of her worries, not after Fury’s reveal about the situation they were in, but she reached out, knowing the woman wouldn’t be contacting her unless she had reason to.

Her video function picked up in one ring, Romanoff’s heart shaped face set in her usual bland demeanor, save for the curious glint in her green eyes. “So, the big boss came to you for a change and you survived. Hopefully it was something good.”

“No, but it does make life more difficult.”

One corner of Romanoff’s mouth lifted in a smirking, half-smile. “He does that.”

Peggy had always know there was some sort of tie between the aloof operative - aloof to Peggy, that was - and Fury. What it was neither they or Barton had ever elaborated on, and Peggy had at least had the grace not to ask. “You had an update for me?”

“Some on Potts, but mostly on Samuel Sterns, the scientist from Grayburn that Banner was working with. He’s been contained, by the way.”

Part of the collateral damage of Blonsky’s attack, the biologist had been caught in the crossfire. It wasn’t clear what had happened, save that he had been working with Banner and had samples of his contaminated blood that had infected him, most likely in Blonsky’s original transformation. “What’s his condition?”

“The serum is affecting him, all right, I guess expanding his intelligence and consciousness, which is the exact opposite of what it did to Banner.”

Peggy considered what had happened to Steve, who had been a highly intelligent, strategic thinker in his own right well before the serum. Once he’d had it, his thinking, not to mention his ability to learn and remember information quickly and accurately, had grown exponentially, much to Peggy’s irritation whenever the two of them ever had a minor spat. “It is an unknown, bastardized form of Erskine’s formula, I suppose it is within the real of possibility it would have different effects on different people, Dr. Sterns included. How is he coping?”

“Well, despite my years of working on my accent, he pinpointed I was born in Volgagrad and offered to help me get back there if I let him go.” One of her dark auburn eyebrows arched delicately. “He tried to bribe me, help me to get back home, so not smart enough to figure out that I clearly wasn’t there on purpose, but you know he made a valiant effort...at least till I shot him in the leg.”

Peggy blinked, stunned at the nonchalant manner in which she casually mentioned she had maimed a man. “I hope it isn’t permanent damage.”

“He’ll survive. He’s in SHIELD custody and they are studying what happened to him. That said, I don’t know if he will be released any time soon. It’s unfortunate, he was a good professor, but with what he’s going through…”

Peggy wasn’t comfortable with the idea of locking up a man against his well, especially for something that ultimately wasn’t his fault. “Maybe we can utilize him in some way.”

“You mean for the Avengers?”

Considering the conversation she just had with Fury, she wasn’t sure that was possible. “Perhaps or perhaps in some other area of SHIELD.”

“SHIELD is usually pretty good about picking up strays and findings a use for them.” Romanoff of all people should know. “Speaking of, I heard about your little discussion with the mayor of New York. You really just dropped that on him in front of everyone?”

“I did,” Peggy sighed, rather wishing she hadn’t now. “If you are here to chastise me for doing it, Fury unfortunately already beat you to the punch.”

“I figured that might be what he was up to.” Her words indicated he hadn’t told her what his conversation with Peggy was going to be, much to Peggy’s surprise. “Paranoia and caution are two of Fury’s favorite adjectives.”

“I’m sensing that,” Peggy shot back with only a hint of her frustration.

“So, the cat is out of the bag, now what?”

Peggy had a feeling the other woman knew full well the political challenges that such a proposition faced with SHIELD. “Figuring out what I can do given the political climate of the World Security Council.”

“I can’t imagine they took your announcement well. Doesn’t mean you are going to stop, though.”

“No,” she admitted, not even bothering to lie about it to the other agent. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Good,” Romanoff shot back, approving. “Because I want in.”

That caught Peggy by surprise. “You want in?”

“Yes,’ she reiterated, a hint of challenge in her cool expression.

Peggy wasn’t sure why the woman’s statement surprised her so. Perhaps it was the fact that Peggy knew Romanoff was Fury’s creature, loyal to him first and foremost, a fact she didn’t necessarily try to hide. That coupled with her general mistrust of Peggy from the beginning - which, given Peggy’s unceremonious entrance into this world from the past, she supposed she couldn’t entirely blame her for - meant that she and Romanoff had never been friends. Cordial, yes, and there were certainly cracks in the ice that had formed between them, but not so much that Peggy would have expected her to drop everything to join a group which on paper, as far as the World Security Council was concerned, didn’t exist.

That was the very point Peggy decided to make. “You do realize that officially there is no Avengers, right?”

That didn’t seem to concern Romanoff. “If you are doing this right, you’ll need someone with my unique capabilities.”

She wasn’t wrong, Romanoff was the best in SHIELD at what she did and Peggy would be an idiot to say no. Instead, she simply asked “why?”

Romanoff took a long, circumspect moment before answering. “Because, like Stark, I got a lot of blood on my hands and I want to make it right.”

Whatever answer Peggy had expected, that wasn’t it. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, as both Coulson and Barton had hinted at Romanoff’s past, of things she had done and the darkness that lay there. Still, she had few details, and she wasn’t particularly sure what Romanoff was expecting out of this.

“This is hardly a religious organization, Romanoff, and I’m not in the position to give you any absolution for sin, real or imagined.”

“I wasn’t asking you for absolution,” Romanoff hit back, an edge of defiance in her voice, quickly subsumed by resignation. “Frankly, there isn’t precisely a religious institution out there that I believe in enough to give me the sort of absolution I need. That doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I spent a lifetime doing horrible things without question because I thought that was the only purpose I had in this world. It never occurred to me, not once, not till I walked away, that I had a choice. This is one of those choices. I may never make up for all of it, but today I can make a choice to do something good and something that serves something right. Tomorrow I can do the same thing. I can do that, day after day, and pretty soon, maybe, all those right choices will add up. Maybe, just maybe, at the end of all of this all those choices might begin to make right all the things I did, atone for at least a part of it. I mean, Fury did call this group ‘the Avengers.’ Perhaps I can avenge something for those people who have been hurt by my actions.”

In the face of a real, honest moment from Romanoff, Peggy wasn’t even sure what to say. Romanoff had never trusted her enough to be honest with her in any way, shape or form and that she was doing it now stunned her. Unsure of what that even meant, Peggy chose to respond simply. “We would love to have you.”

“Good,” Romanoff nodded, a hint of relief in the word. Clearly, it had been a rather terrifying proposition, being that open, a position Peggy understood all too well in her own journey.

“You know,” Peggy drawled, breaking the tension ever so slightly, a hint of mischief in her tone. “If you do this, you will be forced to work with Stark.”

“I’m not worried.” Romanoff brushed off Peggy’s teasing with airy unconcern. “Stark can’t stand me, but Pepper Potts loves me. She’s enough to keep him in line.”

That was a relationship that Peggy in a million years hadn’t foreseen happening. “And how is your assignment with Miss Potts?”

“I should be finished up in another couple of weeks. Once we have flushed out the problem children and upped some security protocols here, I am out. Stark’s suggested setting up his bodyguard, Hogan, to take up security here, which perhaps isn’t the worst idea in the world. Hogan’s belligerent and paranoid enough to keep people in line.”

“Stark should be thanking you, you know.”

“Perhaps he will, when he’s done being mad that I lied to him,” Romanoff shrugged. “Surprisingly, for a man who has had as much moral ambiguity in his life, lying is not something he does, nor does he appreciate it. Just something to keep in mind when dealing with him.”

“I’m aware,’ Peggy grimaced, thinking of their long week together and of their conversations. Lying was something Howard did as easily as breathing, especially when it suited his purposes. It was small wonder his son detested it, even in a woman who was by her own admission a spy.

“He will come around,” Peggy assured her, though in honesty she was more assuring herself that she could somehow make Stark work with the various personalities around him. “For now, for obvious reasons, I will have to move cautiously moving forward. I think your relationship with Fury will help to facilitate that. As he just reminded me, we will have to move carefully for the moment, given the discussions being held on levels well above us.”

“So I gathered. I suppose for now we hold tight and see how the winds blow in SHIELD?”

“For now,” Peggy agreed, not precisely liking the precarious position this put them all in. “At least for now.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy gets a series of surprise entrances.

It wasn’t so much that Peggy was shocked that Tony Stark had finally found out where she lived, but rather that it had taken him so very long to come and bedevil her once he had discovered it.

A late November shower sent Peggy dashing through scattered raindrops, the precursor to the evening skies opening up to pour on her. With one hand on her favorite, red hat, the other wrapped around her suitcase, she marched through the lobby of the building she called home. As usual, the junior agent, Perez was at the front desk, greeting Peggy with a cheerful smile. “How was your Thanksgiving, Director?”

“Lovely,” she assured him with a smile. “How was time with your family?”

“The usual, but I can’t complain. My older sister got engaged!”

“How lovely! Did you do the proper thing as her younger brother and a future SHIELD operative and give the object of her affections a hard time?”

Perez laughed, blushing with just a hint of guilt. “I did. He seems all right, though, I think I will give him a pass.”

“Good,” she grinned, reaching in her bags for one of the myriad of plastic containers Cynthia Carter sent home with her, believing in her bones that her husband’s aunt was obviously starving herself. “My niece’s mother sent this home with me and I suppose I can share. You do like pumpkin pie?”

“Enough that I won’t say no to it,” he beamed, gleefully taking the container. “I’ll have it for my break with coffee.”

“Enjoy,” Peggy called, gaily, stepping to the lifts, glad that she had chosen to take the day after Thanksgiving off. As it was, she rarely took days of downtime, a point brought home by Angie in their conversation earlier that week. Her oldest living friend made no bones about pointing out that Peggy had been and would always be a “workaholic” as she put it, and that she needed to start considering taking time to actually live her life. Angie, as always, was usually more wise about these things than Peggy was. The decades of living had given Angie perspective that Peggy still didn’t have, that of a life well lived, of moments, good and bad, that gave her fulfillment. For Peggy, who had seemingly not known a quiet moment since she left the school room ages ago, it was a concept she struggled to wrap her head around. 

She had planned a quiet holiday weekend on the whole, frankly, a brief visit to Sharon and the rest of the Carter clan in Washington before returning home before holiday commuters clogged the train line. New York was beautiful this time of year and now that the parade was over, the city lit up with Christmas cheer. Despite the fact it was the busiest shopping weekend of the year, she had thought of calling Juan to go with her to peruse the shops and the crowds, perhaps have lunch and a laugh at his usually bitingly accurate commentary of the many New Yorkers bustling about. She had resolved to call him as soon as she was able to settle herself in, reaching for her phone as she walked up to her door, when the sound of music blaring through her door gave her pause.

Peggy certainly did appreciate music, much more than her failed piano teacher ever gave her credit for, but she had yet to really come to love the modern popular music that was all the rage. Certainly between Sharon, Cassandra and Juan, they had indoctrinated her into a few songs and tunes that had caught her ear, but she certainly had not taken to the loud, raucous noise known as rock. Still, she could hear it, thumping and shouting through the walls as she placed a thumb against the scanner that secured her door, as she heard the lock tumble, allowing her to open the door. The music blared even more loudly, now, and whoever had turned it on clearly had gained entry from some other access point. Quietly, setting her bags down on the marble tiled floor outside with as little noise as possible, she reached for her weapon, carefully removing it from layers of clothing, and stepped cautiously inside.

The noise poured from the apartment’s own speakers, a function of the building’s artificial intelligence. It was loud to the point of obnoxious, but Peggy refrained from ordering it to be turned down to give herself the element of surprise. With quiet steps - not that you could hear them over the clatter anyway - she made her way down the wide, tiled foyer and to the living space, empty and mostly dark in the dim, early light. The kitchen and dining area were not, however, and there at the marble topped island in her open design kitchen sat a familiar dark head, bent over something in front of him, his back to the door - like an idiot - so lost in what he was doing that she could have been screaming bloody murder at him and she doubted he would have noticed.

Instead, without lowering her gun an inch, she reached to the keypad for the flat’s computer system and manually lowered the cacophony to a mere whisper, her ears ringing with the emptiness of it. Before he could even lodge a protest she spoke into the sudden stillness. “Anthony Stark, what are you doing?”

It must have been the Anthony that caught his attention.

“You turned down my music!” He turned, frowning, catching sight of her weapon still pointed at his head. “Jesus, Aunt Peggy, you carry that with you all the time or are you just happy to see me?”

She lowered it, grimacing at his continued insistence on his moniker for her, a ridiculous title she had yet to truly shake. “If you’d been a home invader, I’d have shot you dead.”

“I am a home invader, technically.” He gestured to the door onto her balcony and the Iron Man suit sitting in shadows, empty and depowered. “And...did you just call me Anthony?”

“It’s your proper name, isn’t it?” Peggy holstered her weapon once again, fixing him with a glare that only seemed to annoy him.

“Only my mother ever got away with calling me that...usually, because I deserved it. She’d throw the Edward in when it was particularly bad.” He frowned, staring at the top of her head. “Nice hat. Where did you get it?”

“Saks in 1946. Do you like it?”

He frowned, assessing it with a critical eye. “Yeah, it weirdly suits you, makes you like like a hard-ass dame from some smoky film noir, which I suppose you qualify as. So, anyway, you pulled a gun on me?”

“What else would I do, considering you just broke into a SHIELD secured apartment with top level security and...and AI, I thought.” Peggy frowned at the computer panel, before reaching into her pocket for the phone that lay quiescent there. “This is supposed to inform me when security has been breached.”

“Yeah, about that…” Stark tugged an ear sheepishly as he spun on one foot back to the kitchen island, to the set up he had there, comprised of his cellular phone and what looked like Peggy’s laptop computer.

“Is that my…”

“I borrowed it,” he yelped, quickly, shooting her only the briefest of sheepish grins. “I wasn’t sure when you were getting home.”

“A quick phone call, perhaps? JARVIS has my number.”

“Yeah, about JARVIS.” With a long finger, he reached across to tap the keyboard. A dizzying array of ice blue patterns swirled, as Stark glanced up to the ceiling above him. “How we doing, buddy?”

“I believe integration is complete.” From the speakers, the calm, collected voice of JARVIS sounded, much to Peggy’s surprise and delight. “I have integrated into the SHIELD settings for this apartment and have changed network settings to only service this location. It is now additionally secure from any other forms of intrusion.”

Peggy snapped her open mouth shut, staring in wonder at Stark. “You set up Mr. Jarvis here?”

“You know...mister...never mind...yes, I set up JARVIS here. Thought you might like it.”

“I do!” Certainly, Stark’s AI was much more welcome than the building’s AI, cold and impersonal. “Just...why?”

His shrug was diffident. “Bored, mostly, wanted something to do.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow at him, only partially convinced. “I am sure it wasn’t to try and spy on me or SHIELD?”

Stark couldn’t dissemble if his life depended on it. “Now why would I do something like that when I am working with SHIELD?”

“Because you may be working with SHIELD, but you don’t trust SHIELD. You trust me and not the organization who has contracted you.”

He pursed his lips together, pushing them out as he bobbed his head. “Yeah...fair, you got me. But I’m not spying on you.”

“On SHIELD then?”

“Maybe, but my experiment trying to break through their back door using JARVIS interfacing with their AI didn’t work, so, I am guessing your Agent Burk told them how easy I got in and they’ve upped their game.”

“Right,” Peggy sighed, turning on her heel to wander back down the foyer and the open front door to retrieve her forgotten bag. “Mr. Jarvis, you will warn me in case Mr. Stark does anything ridiculously stupid.”

“I will try my best, Miss Carter.”

Peggy shook her head as she pulled her bags in. Stark watched her, bandly. “How was your holiday? Do the British even celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“I have lived around Americans since 1941, so yes.” Peggy was well used to the holiday by now. “I spent it with my family in northern Virginia. How about you? I am assuming you and Miss Potts went somewhere.”

“Her family.” He looked nearly green saying it. “Not far, actually, her parents live in Northern California. Normal, nice suburban family, actually, the type who watch football while the turkey is cooking and have pictures of their kids on the walls.”

Peggy only smiled as she set the luggage aside, hearing the uncomfortable note in his voice. “Not the sort of holiday gathering you were used to?”

“No, not really.” He tugged at his ear again, nervously, a gesture that reminded her of Edwin Jarvis, a learned habit she surmised from Stark’s own unique childhood. “My family's idea of a Thanksgiving meal was having it catered by whoever my mother’s favorite chef of the moment was and inviting 200 of my father’s closest friends and enemies in order to impress them. It usually ended with him drunk and insulting someone, my mother rushing to smooth it over and me hiding in the kitchen with the Jarvises eating a turkey sandwich.”

A far cry from the family atmosphere of even the Carter family holiday, where Peggy had spent it looking through old family photographs with Harry and Maggie and sharing stories with their children and grandchildren. It had been strange in its own way. It was still odd to know she was technically the eldest one there, the keeper of memories of a generation that had passed already, but it was warm and friendly, filled with laughter and jokes and children, a mad sort of chaos that was in itself far removed Peggy’s own proper upbringing in the 1920s and 30s.

“I think I do understand something of what you are feeling. It is different. Did they like you at least?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say. I think her mother hates me, but you know, may just show her wisdom and insight.”

Peggy highly doubted that Mrs. Potts hated him. Perhaps mildly distrusted him. “If you were in California yesterday, what are you doing here?”

“Giving you an update,” he drawled, earning confusion from her. “You know, since I’m a consultant and everything. So I did what you asked and checked in with Ross, mostly to see what he would say about continued meddling with the super soldier serum, but mostly just to piss him off.”

The entire reason she had sent Stark to bother Ross, frankly, was because Peggy knew the two of them got along like oil and water. “And?”

“Well, I own a new dive bar in DC now. Am thinking I might just tear it down, build up the property to be mixed use apartments and commercial. That’s the new thing, now. Might put a new, classier bar in and hire the same staff, because it’s sort of shitty they lost jobs just to prove a point, but you know, I’m trying to branch out into other areas of development now I’m not doing the weapons gig.”

“General Ross, Tony,” Peggy reiterated, hands on her hips, with the same impatient glare she would have fixed his father with.

Stark was gleefully unfazed. “Right, no, Ross is clean. Word on the street is his reputation has been hit hard at the Pentagon and he’s not really looking likely to recover anytime soon. Considering the fact he was drunk in the middle of the day on what looked like Midori - which, honestly, how desperate is that - I am guessing he’s either going to spectacularly nuke his career or quit while he can and save face, maybe make a political career like all other old generals do.”

Peggy tried to summon up some sympathy for the man but couldn’t. “I kept my promise. I said I’d not drag his name through the mud.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit hard for people not to notice that things went to shit with Banner on the run again.” Stark settled in one of the high chairs at the island itself. “Which, by the way, we got a ping on the network. Banner was seen in Alaska, boarding a Russian fishing vessel heading to China and other parts. By now he’s likely lost somewhere over there. My algorithm only covered the US, really, after that he’s lost again.”

Which was unfortunate. “You said to give him space.”

“I did and I was right in that, but Banner doesn’t want to be found right now, and I sort of get that.”

Peggy did as well, but that didn't mean she didn’t want to know where the scientist was at. “I’ll set Romanoff on him, see if she can watch him from a distance. We won’t interfere.” Frankly, considering what Ross had put Banner through, Peggy wasn’t entirely sure how welcoming he would be to SHIELD in the first place, no matter how well meaning. She could hardly blame him for assuming they would want to entrap him and lock him away much the same way that Ross did.

“So is that the only reason you stopped by, to fiddle with my security system and fill me in on the latest way you’ve angered the US Army?”

“Mmmm, mostly, also brought you a Christmas present.” From beside his set up on the counter he pulled a slim, neatly wrapped box, pushing it across the granite countertop.

“Christmas?” She eyed the silvery, foil wrapping with suspicion. “That’s not for another month.”

“Well, I plan to not be here. I want to whisk Pepper off to somewhere warm with lots of sand and water, preferably with clothing being optional, do a bit of R&R.”

He was hardly the first Stark to be so shocking salacious in her presence, but it was the besotted look in his otherwise flippant tone that surprised her more than his suggestion of what their activities would be. He was rather head over heels for the lovely Pepper Potts, and as much as he tried to be cool and pretend otherwise, he never could quite manage. She couldn’t help but grin at him, knowingly, earning an eye roll as he waved impatiently at the gift. “Open it.”

“All right,” she laughed, tearing the precisely wrapped paper - she was guessing it was perhaps wrapped by either Potts or an assistant - revealing a white gift box. She carefully lifted the lid, peeking into the tissue paper layered underneath.

“Jesus, you’re opening it like it was a bomb.”

“I’m enjoying the moment,” she countered, knowing her meticulousness was annoying him. With nimble fingers she unswathed the layers of silvery tissue, finding underneath it an elegant, wooden frame, dark and highly polished. Inside of it was a black-and-white photograph, weathered and somewhat faded, but as familiar to her as the day they took it.

Despite herself, tears filmed her vision. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, caught at her throat as she stared at it. “Where did you find this?”

“Some of Howard’s things, the crates that Fury left me months ago.” Stark’s tone was uncharacteristically soft. “The date was 1941, so I guess that is Project: Rebirth era?”

“It was,” she confirmed, her eyes and nose burning as she tried a wobbly smile. She let her fingers ghost the glass, to the three people standing in front of the main research barracks at the old Army training grounds at Camp Lehigh. She was all stern and serious youthful confidence, her uniform pinpoint precision, the lines and curves straight as was her gaze into the camera. Howard on the far end was his usual dapper self, his expensive suit the counterpoint to his arched eyebrow and cocky grin, so certain of himself and what they were up to. And in between them stool Abraham Erskine, rumpled as always, his suit wrinkled, his expression kindly but weary and world-worn, the grief of loss etched into every line of his face. He had hoped to do so much good with his serum. It was heartbreaking to think of the horrible things done in order to get it, let alone the horrific things done with it, from Red Skull to Emil Blonsky and Samuel Sterns. Erskine had been at his heart a good man, his work had deserved to be used better.

Her long silence clearly made Stark somewhat uncomfortable. “You look like a baby in that picture, you know.”

“I was,” Peggy replied, wiping surreptitiously at the corner of her eyes, trying to pull what dignity she had left back together. “I was twenty when that picture was taken. Hard to believe that it was only a decade ago for me. It feels like a lifetime.”

“It was a lifetime,” Stark said, studying the photo and his father in it. “God, he is so young there. I forget he was ever young. He was so old when I came around.”

“He was young, once,” Peggy chuckled, wetly. “Young and impetuous and mad. You do remind me of him in that sense.”

That was a loaded statement and one knew she had to use carefully around him. She could see him weighing the statement, shrugging nonchalantly even if he clearly didn’t agree with her. “I won’t deny I do look like him.”

“But you are different,” Peggy quickly interjected, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edges of the gorgeous frame. “Empathy and compassion were never easy for him. I don’t think it would have ever occurred to him to stop producing weapons, to do something else. Putting others before himself was not something Howard was ever good at.”

Her words clearly hit home. He grew thoughtful, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued to regard a picture from long ago. “I don’t know if I’m that different. Pepper can tell you that this whole putting others before myself thing is relatively new in the grand scheme of things. I’m...selfish, self-centered, narcissistic, all the things they say Howard was.”

“But at least you are aware of it and want to change, or are at least trying.”

“Yeah,” he grunted, still not certain of Peggy’s assessment. “I’m a regular, goddamn hero, got a medal and everything.”

“Yes, you did,” Peggy chuckled, remembering well both the ceremony and the sour look on Senator Stern’s face before he turned up his politician's smile for the cameras. “Do you keep it on the mantle?”

“In a box in my tool chest, actually. Fitting, since I got it from Stern.”

She chuckled, but made no further comment. “So you never did explain why you are in New York?”

“Oh, you know, Pepper had meetings, and we are finishing up the remodel of Stark Tower. Working to move it off the grid and onto an arc reactor using the new core. If the prototype works out, we may start rolling that out as a clean energy alternative.”

“And people wondered what Stark Industries would do without making bombs,” Peggy teased.

Overhead, the smooth voice of JARVIS cut in, surprising them both. “Excuse me, Miss Carter, there is a rather urgent phone call coming in from SHIELD.”

Peggy eyed Stark in surprise. “He answers my telephone as well?”

“As you well know, the Jarvises are assistants with many talents. Probably, SHIELD has picked up I hacked the system and they are wanting to complain about it. I mean, honestly, they knew it was going to happen sometime, right?”

“And you wonder why they only have you on as a consultant.” Peggy rolled her eyes. “Please put it through, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Of course,” the AI responded, before Peggy’s own computer screen came to life with the image of Maria Hill on the other end. Despite it being a holiday weekend, she was clearly at the office as if it were just another day.

“Director Carter,” she greeted without fanfare or even acknowledging Stark's presence in the room with her. “We got news from the Canadian military. They found him.”

Fingers suddenly nerveless, the elegant frame clattered onto the granite counter, the faces of herself, Howard, and Erskine staring up at her as her heart threatened to burst from her chest, her lungs forgetting how to even work properly. Stark, confused by Hill and startled by Peggy’s reaction snapped to attention beside her.

“What is it? Who did they find?”

Peggy’s already frazzled emotions threatened to fray completely as blinked over at Stark’s worried concern. It was only as she tried to speak that she realized she was already crying.

“Peggy?”

“They found him,” she whispered, half in relief, half in still lingering disbelief. “They found Steve!”

Stark’s head cocked in the curious way he had when he was utterly confused. “Steve? Steve who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I wonder what the next story is all about?
> 
> To those of you clamoring for Steve, you are getting your wish. "Awaiting Time" will start on Wednesday. I hope you come and take a look.
> 
> This story was very much at the heart of why I was writing this in the first place. I wanted to put Peggy into this modern world and see how she fared with it, to have her build her own life and make her own connections and see what the Avengers would be like if she were in it, and here we are. It delights me that so many of you have gone along for the ride with me. The next story will of course pick up the threads here! How will Peggy still keep the Avengers going despite the opposition? Will they be ready for the Battle of New York, of which she knows nothing? And more importantly, once they wake up Steve, how is he going to react to all of this - a new and different world and a new and different Peggy?
> 
> To all of you who have been reading throughout the fall, thank you. Obviously, 2020 was not the easiest of years, and while 2021 is clearly holding over the 2020 awful juju, I have every hope it will get better. For all of you who have commented on how these stories helped you get through the year, thank you. Writing them helped me get through the year too, and to know that it cheered you even when things were at their more bleak means a lot. Hopefully, we will get through this next one all right - and as Steve says, we will do it together.
> 
> So, thank you for your comments and support and I hope to see some of you on "Awaiting Time." Enjoy!


End file.
